


Teacher, Teacher

by stars_of_february



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: AYY, An OC is gonna be here, Angst, Fluff, Give it a go, I know, Jealous Sans, Like, Multi, Not main character though, Possessive Sans, Possible smut, Reader Insert, Reader has a personality, Reader is a teacher, What am I doing, Wow, also many memes, bonding is involved, but it's still, fem!reader - Freeform, gee, have a look, i guess, idfk, is that even a tag thing, lotta plot i hope, monster bonding, mushy stuff, pretty random, reader is shy, some angst???, stupid humor, such cliche, these tags though, updates sporadically at best
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-07-18 16:54:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7323316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stars_of_february/pseuds/stars_of_february
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Takes place in the modern world, after the monsters are freed]</p>
<p>You're a pretty average, fresh-from-college high school mathematics teacher scraping by in your tough school teaching position. Even if your life seems pretty hard right now, at least it's normal, right?</p>
<p>At least, until a horde of monsters climb out of a lonely mountain and announce their presence on Earth. And until monsters start finding work in human communities. And until a short little skeleton decides to fill in a teaching position at your high school. </p>
<p>What happened to the normal life???</p>
<p>[All characters and events in this work—even those based on real people or video game characters—are entirely fictional. All lines of dialogue are thought-up and written.....poorly. The following fanfiction contains coarse language, alcohol, smoking, twerking, blazing it, farting, excessive puns and due to its content it should not be viewed by anyone.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Suddenly Realize That You Have A Soft Spot for Monsters (in general)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a shitty introduction with like no plot. the skill is over 9000.

_**NOTE:** **(y/n) = your name** _

_**More will be added to this list. Enjoy!** _

_\---_

_Beep. Beep._

You shift and turn away from the annoying sound.

_Beep. Beep._

"Five more minutes," you mumble sleepily to yourself. "Five more minutes only."

You grope around on your bedside table, searching for the alarm clock, which is beeping obnoxiously. Slamming a hand on the button, it immediately turns off and you snuggle back into your blankets.

\---

As soon as you drag yourself off your comfy (albeit slightly lumpy) bed, you know you're gonna be late.

_8:07,_ your alarm clock flashes smugly.

You're really late. 

You move sluggishly, brushing your teeth sloppily and showering as fast as your heavy limbs will allow. It seems like all of your body is achy and unwilling to get you to school.

Not that you're a student, or anything. In fact, you've ascended to the teaching position.

Of course, teaching seems like a good job and all, but from your experience, you'll readily tell anyone that it's rough. After graduating teacher's college spectacularly, you'd been immediately moved up to a steady position in a high school teaching two advanced math classes in grades nine and ten. A big jump, some would say, but you almost (quite literally) aced your way through all your qualifications. It had been three years since then and you were twenty-five, turning twenty-six in August.

It was a relatively well-paying job compared to the odd jobs you'd used to work back as a broke college student, but it was tiring. You loved all your students dearly and they (if not liked you) tolerated you, but there were always students struggling, kids falling behind their classes. While you enjoyed staying behind and going the extra mile to help students who weren't even in your classes, it was a lot of work. There was barely a day in which you weren't staying up late, grading papers and tests or preparing work for a student you were helping.

Looking in the mirror, you cringe at the dark circles under your eyes and the haggard expression on your face. Sometimes you'd question choosing such a grueling job, but your high school was in the toughest part of Ebottville, where crime was everywhere and bad influences lurked. You found yourself looking around warily as you got into your car in the evenings when you left for home.

The teens in those neighborhoods had seen more than you could imagine, and it broke your heart seeing them stray from a safe and happy path. Which was one of the reasons why you couldn't bear to ask the teachers' board to move you somewhere else.

You change into a dark blue blouse, black pants and black flats. Simple clothes. It's teaching, not a fashion show. Throwing on some quick makeup to hide the exhaustion on your face, you grab your purse and keys and scramble out the door. 

_8:23._

Damn. Classes begin at 8:45 and you live about half an hour away from your school. Not to mention the rush-hour traffic.

Shit.

As you drum your fingers on the steering wheel, you jab a button and the car radio turns on.

_"...As more and more monsters are emerging from Mount Ebott, authorities are in a jam trying to hold back the waves of these intriguing creatures baying for freedom. Here's Anna Cadence with the special report."_

Oh, yeah. It'd been buzzing all over headlines since a couple of days ago. The mountain overlooking Ebottville had suddenly erupted in a blinding flash and soon, strange beings that identified themselves as (oddly enough) "monsters" began appearing. Honestly, you're a little concerned about these... monsters. You'd seen a couple on television, and they sure did look bizarre. At least they all looked kind (though confused about where they were.) Surely things could be worked out. They could integrate into the community, you suppose, with some effort and compromise. Then again, humans aren't even accepting some of their own kind. 

Sometimes humanity really sucked.

_"...all over media, that monsters, fabled creatures that had been supposedly sealed away and locked up underground for centuries, have risen again. A small group of monsters has stepped up to speak about it and explain their story._

_The most surprising thing is that a human child has declared their young self as a part of their group. Francis "Frisk" Gray emerged from the mountain just days ago with the group of monsters, claiming to have been trapped in there for months._

_There has indeed been a Francis Gray that had been reported missing four months ago in June in the small town of Ebottville, which resides underneath Mount Ebott, and the case had been ruled unsolved. Despite the connection, the police has been keeping Francis Gray in custody for questioning, much to the monsters' dismay._ _According to several monsters, Francis, or "Frisk" as they lovingly refer to the child, is a kind and gentle youth, their one hope in the bleak "Underground". A skeleton gave a heartfelt speech while in handcuffs for being too "overzealous" in trying to take back Francis from police custody._

_"FRISK IS... WELL, THEY ARE TRULY A KIND AND GENEROUS SOUL. NOT ONLY DO THEY LOVE PUZZLES AND PASTA..."_ The skeleton sniffed loudly. _"THEY DID NOT HURT A SINGLE PERSON DOWN IN THE UNDERGROUND. PLEASE. FRISK DOES NOT DESERVE THIS! THEY DESERVE TO BE FREE AND HAPPY, AND I BELIEVE THAT WE MONSTERS SHOULD, TOO."_

_A monster introducing himself as the King of the Underground is currently discussing the monsters' futures with prime ministers, presidents and chancellors from all over the world. King Asgore Dreemurr had this to say to interviewers as he exited a meeting with President Barack Obama:_

_"We monsters do not intend to harm anyone. We have been trapped for centuries in the Underground, you must understand. All we wish for is a bright future in which monsters and humans can coexist peacefully and happily. I believe that this is entirely possible, and I am working day and night to ensure this future is within our reach."_

_Dreemurr has managed to seal a deal with the mayor of Ebottville to allow a number of monsters to--_

You turn off the radio. That sentimental shit won't help your drowsy state.

You turn right into the school parking lot, chewing your lip. Those monsters... they seem even more kind than ever, and they must really care for Frisk to want to protect them so badly. Your heart swells with a desire to help them, but you know that you're incapable of anything, at least for now. 

Especially since you're ten minutes late for class.

"Fuck," you mutter as you sprint to the doors of the high school, fling them open and scramble up to your class. Even worse, it's on the second floor.

Panting, you burst into class to find your ninth-graders chatting idly as they wait for you. They stifle grins as they take in your disheveled appearance, but you know that behind their grins is genuine fondness.

"Alright, alright," you grumble good-naturedly. "I'm late, haha, I look stupid. Open your textbooks, brats."

Laughing along with the kids, you delve into the lessons.

\---

"...and pages 420 to 422 are for homework," you say, slamming your math book shut. As if on cue, the bell rings and your kids start filing out of the classroom for their next class.

"Don't forget, quiz is on Thursday!" You call out over the din of scraping chairs.

One student stays behind, as usual. It's Charlotte this time. Ah, Charlotte. Bless her soul, she's easily the shyest and quietest person you've ever met. Her anxiety around people tends to make her so nervous, she can't do work properly. Her marks used to be in the C- to D+ range, but thanks to your careful mentoring, she's blossomed into a solid B+ student. It's a start, at least.

"What's up, Charlotte?" Smiling at her, you see Charlotte look down and fidget (a habit of hers which you've tried hard to break) before speaking.

"Oh, I, uh, needed some help on today's lesson. I didn't catch all of it."

"Sure, honey. But weren't you here for the whole class? How could've you missed some of the concepts?"

Charlotte bites her lip. "I was distracted. By s-something," she stammers.

Obviously she's hiding something, but experience has taught you not to pry too much with students like Charlotte.

"Okay, so where're you having trouble, Charlotte?

\---

You decide to have lunch in your classroom today. On occasion, you'll eat with the other teachers in the staff room, but today seems like a good day for some peace and quiet. Besides, the teachers here treat you like a child still, probably because of your youth in such a tough job.

After dashing out to buy a quick lunch from the nearby deli, you sit back on your chair and munch on the ham-and-cheese sandwich you bought. It tastes pretty good and the coffee you got with it rejuvenates you. You've had a tiring morning without your caffeine, and the strong drink is heavenly.

You grab your phone and take a quick glance at it. Several texts from your best friend Isabelle, an email from the principal, Mr. Underwood and a missed call from Isabelle. Huh. What's so important for her to text you a bunch of messages and even call you? Isabelle works as a restaurant waitress at a busy diner, so she doesn't have a lot of time to text and do that kind of shit. Not to mention that her boss is kind of strict about phones during shifts.

You dial her number and wait, sipping your coffee patiently.

_Ring, ring._

"Hello?" Isabelle's bubbly voice chimes.

"Hey, 'Belle. What's up?"

Isabelle laughs. "Did you even read the texts?"

"Uh, no?"

"Oh my God, you're so stupid sometimes," Isabelle sighs. "Whatever. I'll make it quick, since my boss might be back in a sec."

"I'm listening."

"So, like, you've been hearing about how monsters are trying to get into human society, right?" Isabelle asks.

"Yeah, I have."

"Well, they've announced an hour ago that they're officially going to allow about a hundred monsters to integrate into the world for a few months! Workplaces are being chosen to accept monsters for jobs and houses and roommates are being sought after. I'm totally gonna sign up! It's gonna be SO exciting!" babbles Isabelle.

"Whoa. Hold up, Isabelle." You frown, chewing your lip again. "We can sign up to house monsters in our places?"

"Yup!" she squeals.

You remember how your heart swelled when you heard about the monsters struggling for freedom. Even though your conscience tells you that your tiny little apartment with only a bedroom, a cramped kitchen/dining room, bathroom and little guest room (that's currently overflowing with stuff you hadn't unpacked since moving here a few months ago) would never fit an extra person, you shrug. "Why the hell not," you say. "I'll sign up too."

"YAY!" You can practically hear her bouncing up and down from the other end of the line. "Okay, my boss is making his rounds. Gotta go, (y/n)!"

Before you can say bye, she hangs up.

Isabelle, your best friend. Bubbly and energetic, she completely contrasts your more reserved and cautious behavior. Her dark brown, curly hair bounces effortlessly and her eyes are shining with unbridled happiness pretty much all the time. You sometimes wish that you were as gorgeous as her, but hey, who's to say you're not beautiful?

You run and hand through your hair and scoff. Your looks are, if anything, average. At least you think so.

You're about to open your new email from Mr. Underwood when the bell rings abruptly and your eleventh-graders jostle in. Straightening up, you stow away your phone and tidy your desk up, ready to teach another lesson.

\---

The rest of the day goes by fast. Not much happens besides your usual lessons and a session of mentoring with another student, Angel, who's been stressed out lately. As the bell rings for the day and students rush home, you get comfy in your chair and settle in for an evening of work.

You do the usual, checking assignments, jotting down grades and averages, preparing tomorrow's lessons, that kind of thing. It takes you about two or three hours at the least, but your mind is distracted and you keep pausing to chew on the end of your pen, forgetting what you were thinking about earlier. 

The monster situation is intriguing you. You never thought yourself much of a compassionate person, but their story has touched you in such a way that you can't stop thinking about it. You're actually considering cleaning up the nuclear waste zone you like to call your spare room.

Thanks to you and your daydreaming (or is it eveningdreaming?), you just finish your work at seven and grab your belongings and hightail it out of there. It's a little shadowy and creepy in the corridors around this time, but you thankfully make it to your car without any incidents.

As you drive home, you turn on the radio again, hopeful for more monster news, but the only thing warbling from the speakers is what people these days call music. Making a face, you pop in a CD of yours and start humming along to the sound of Foo Fighters.

\---

Tossing your keys and purse on the table, you flop down on the couch. It's been a long day, but you pull out your laptop and search up "monster homes."

You get a ton of results, but you see an official government website about the situation of housing for the one hundred-strong monster community. There's a questionnaire you can fill out so you can put in an application for housing a monster (or monsters, you learn. Guess some families want to stay together.) It's boring, but you finish it quickly, send the questionnaire in with your email and close your laptop. Done.

All of a sudden, you remember that you haven't checked your email yet and that Mr Underwood had sent you an email. You pull out your phone and check your inbox. There it is, from James Underwood, concerning the faculty.

_Dear Miss (y/n),_

_It is with great pleasure that I announce that we will be accommodating one monster teacher into Mount Ebott Secondary School. He or she will be replacing our beloved Mrs Jessica Ackles as she settles into retirement. We wish her the best of luck and are ready to welcome whichever monster is selected to teach here._

_We are sending out a call for people who are willing to house this monster in their home as they will need to live in a place that does not take more than an hour to drive to in bad weather or half an hour in good traffic._

_If you are willing to take on this opportunity, please contact our secretary, Mrs Tran, or myself, to get further details._

_Best wishes,_

_James D. Underwood, principal of Mount Ebott Secondary School_

Well, well, well. This isn't a big surprise, but it's still exciting nonetheless. You find yourself typing a reply as fast as your fingers can, a smile growing on your face as you do so.

_Dear Mr Underwood,_

_I would gladly make room for a monster at my home. Please respond with details and such._

_Ms. (y/n)_

A few minutes later, you get a reply.

_Dear Ms. (y/n),_

_Here are the details of the monster we are accepting:_

_Name: Sans_

_Monster type: Skeleton_

A skeleton named Sans, hm? You test the name in your mouth, whispering it to the screen. _Sans. Sans the skeleton._ You wonder what he looks like... is he a literal skeleton? You hope not. That would be creepy.

Then again, compared to other monsters you've seen, it can't be that bad.

_Subject to teach: Physics_

_Classes and grades to teach subject: eleventh and twelfth grade (advanced classes for both)_

So he's teaching similar classes to you. You both teach advanced classes but he does the older grades for physics. Not bad, skelly guy.

After flicking through more boring and long-winded stuff, you come to the conclusion that Sans is a genius in physics and looks like he could've been qualified to teach in university if humans accepted monster diplomas. Unfortunately, they didn't.

You see his phone number at the bottom of the info, and wonder if Mr Underwood's introduced you yet. Oh well. You'd like to meet this guy, see what he's like. If he's gonna be living in your apartment for a while, you suppose that you should get to know him.

You freeze at this thought. He's a monster, isn't he? Is he like other humans? The skeleton and the goat guy did, but you don't know about Sans...

You slam your phone back down and take a deep breath. Maybe you'll talk to him in the morning.

Yeah, that's what you'll do... right?

Eventually you stumble off to bed, thinking about the skeleton that'll be sharing your little apartment with you.

A nasty thought hits you right before you go to sleep.

Does he snore loud?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'd like to think that he does, reader.


	2. You Meet A Skeleton That You Can't Help But Tease For Being Short

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we venture into the world of skeletons and puns yippee

It's 8:00 when you arrive at school today, which is pretty damn early for you. You wouldn't have come at this hour if you hadn't had to. Unfortunately, a certain principal has called you to school early to discuss arrangements with your soon-to-be roommate.

You take a last glance at your outfit, a demure navy blazer with a white blouse and matching skirt. You definitely want to look alright today, especially since Mr Underwood said that there might be a chance to meet... what was his name? Sans? Oh, yeah. Sans.

Your short heels click loudly against the pavement as you walk hurriedly into the school, looking around for Mr Underwood. You duck into the front office, finding Mrs Tran, who's engrossed with a stack of papers as thick as your arm.

"Uh, excuse me, Mrs Tran?" You smile politely at her as she glances at you through her cat-eye glasses. "I need to speak with Mr Underwood. He, uh, called me to his office..." You trail off, fiddling with your purse awkwardly.

"Oh, yes, he's in his office now." Mrs Tran says in her usual nasal voice. "Hurry in, now, before he has other things to attend to."

"Thanks," you manage to say as you walk quickly over to Mr Underwood's office, which just happens to be right around the corner and knock weakly.

Mr Underwood opens the door almost instantly, his eyes crinkling in a smile as he sees you. Mr Underwood isn't an old, wizened, principal-type guy. He's actually only a few years older than you, with dark, tousled hair, blue eyes, tanned skin and a relatively tall build. You feel small and flustered in front of his towering frame. Damn it, you sometimes wish you weren't such a shy person around people like Underwood. Superiors, strangers, too-outgoing people... they make you feel uncomfortable and sweaty. 

Which is one of the reasons you always have some deodorant in your purse.

"Hello, sir," you mumble, looking at your shoes. "I do believe you called me here last night, to, um, talk about my housing arrangement?"

"Please, (y/n), call me James, I've always told you that. And yes, I did call you here. There's a number of important things we need to discuss. It's complicated business, getting a monster to work here..."

You nod and take a seat in front of him. Mr Underwood (oh, fine, _James_ ) merely stands behind his desk and picks up a hefty sheaf of documents.

"Now, then, (y/n), here's the deal. You do have a request filed for monster housing?"

You nod quickly. "Yes, I do."

"Good, good. I'm afraid that you'll need to withdraw that request, unless it's already been 24 hours and you've not withdrawn it?"

You're positive that it hasn't been a full day yet, but you don't want to withdraw the request. One monster might be a little crowded, but hey, the more the merrier. And besides, those monsters need whatever shelter they can get. You're certain that another monster living under your roof would be possible.

"See, James, I, uh, don't want to withdraw that application. Monsters need a home, and even if it's with some... boring person like me, they'll want it all the same, right? I don't think they appreciate being holed up in those terrible... quarantine camps like that while waiting to be approved to live here. And I'm sure I'll be able to fit, um, at least one more in my apartment."

James looks a little taken aback at this, but quickly recovers, plastering a smile on his face again. "...Sure! I mean, yes, I see your point. If you think you can handle two of them, that'll be good. Good. Yes. Um. Right, well, I'll see if I can contact authorities and get them to give you a monster that'll be easy to room with. Maybe a family member of the fellow, what was his name?"

"Sans." You fidget a little as he looks up at you.

"Right, Sans. Well, I had invited Sans for a little talk so the two of you could get acquainted, but I suppose he must be late."

You shrug, a little disappointed but hugely relieved. You quickly chastise yourself. How could you feel such fear toward these beings? They weren't much different from you, besides in their bodies. Other than that, they were just as sentient and kind as any other person. 

"Well, (y/n), if Sans isn't going to be here soon," James glances at his watch, "I don't think that will be a problem. I believe that Sans will be arriving at your place in a week or so, and will begin work shortly after. If you're not meeting him today, don't worry, alright? You'll meet him soon enough. I've talked to him on the phone only once, but he's a friendly enough guy."

"Oh, yeah. Um, okay..." You smile faintly and get up quickly. "Well, sir-- uh, James, sorry-- I'm, uh, going to go now, if that's okay."

James waves you off. "You have a nice day now, (y/n)."

\---

Lunch can't come fast enough. 

It's been a stressful morning, with dozens of quizzes to grade, one of your students, Carl, having a meltdown in class and to top it all off, you've missed your morning caffeine. Your nerves are frayed and you want to just melt into a wall and never come out.

You walk out of the classroom quickly, deciding to stop by a cafe and have lunch. Better than having the dry-looking sandwich you threw together this morning.

A few minutes later, you pull up in front of a random, nearby cafe. The sign says "Spider's Web", with a picture of a spider holding a cup of tea and a doughnut-looking thing. Well, it's worth a shot, you think. You reach out for the door knob, take a deep breath, and attempt to stroll in as casually as you can.

As you enter, you quickly realize that this is one of the new monster-run establishments, and by the looks of it, serving mostly monsters. Big mistake, you groan inwardly. You brace yourself for the angry and suspicious looks from the few monsters there, but surprisingly, everyone turns a blind eye to you. You slip into a booth that looks pretty empty except for a lonely-looking guy sitting by himself.

"Good afternoon, mister," you smile, trying to strike up conversation. You want to get over your irrational fear of monsters (that sounds even more childish when you put it like that), so you might as well do so with a little talking.

The guy doesn't look up. He's wearing a blue zip-up hoodie with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Obviously, he's a monster, but what's he hiding?

"heya," he finally rumbles.

"Uh, hi." You fumble for words, desperately thinking of something to say but nothing comes to mind except for an unbecoming "guh".

You're ready to become one with the booth when suddenly, he laughs. It's a strangely comforting laugh, deep and genuine, as if it's welling up from deep within him. The stranger pulls off his hood and smiles widely at you.

"you're pretty awkward with words, aren'tcha?"

Jesus fucking Christ. You nearly jump out of your skin. The guy's a fucking skeleton???

His eye sockets have little pinpricks of light that you assume are his equivalent of pupils and his hands aren't really like human hands, with long fingers and joints that seem to be holding together with... nothing? He even fucking blinks from time to time! His face must not be solid bone, because his smile shifts a little as he catches you staring.

The skeleton-guy clears his throat pointedly. "you gonna say something, or...?"

Blinking rapidly, you realize it must've seemed so weird, a grown woman looking like she was checking someone out, let alone someone of literally another species. "Crap, sorry... I'm just... you, well..."

God, it's like you forgot how to speak in English.

"I, uh, just haven't seen a monster yet. I mean, properly. Face to face." Flushing, you take a menu from the table and peruse the food sold here, trying to calm yourself and just so you can avoid looking at the guy. Most of it seems to largely consist of purple coloring and pastries. And coffee, of course. 

The monster chuckles, clearly amused by your social awkwardness. "what're you doing in a place like this, little lady? you live 'round here or somethin'?"

"Oh, I'm, uh, a teacher at the local high school. Math. And, well, you know how us teachers can't function without our caffeine so... this is my first time at this cafe. Never met a monster before, actually. So you're gonna be my first monster acquaintance, I guess? Or friend, if you want... uh, what's your name?"

You're slapping yourself on the forehead multiple times inside, but you straighten up and try to look normal. Or at least as normal as a person who's sweating profusely can look.

"oh, i'm sans. sans the skeleton."

As soon as the words are leaving his mouth, you gasp. "S-Sans, you said?"

"that's me."

"Oh, jeez! Really?" You smile at him. "You're Sans? The physics teacher guy? I'm, uh, gonna be your roommate next week, actually. I'm the teacher who offered to give you a room at my place."

Sans looks shocked. "really? so you're (y/n)?"

"In the flesh," you grin, and for some reason, he cracks up.

Huh? You hear the words again in your head, and then you realize it. You've just made an accidental joke. Well, a joke to a skeleton.

"you got a _bone_ to pick with me, (y/n)? ain't no reason to hate on this bag o' bones."

Shit. The guy's got a terrible sense of humor.

Speaking of humor...

"That wasn't _humerus_ at all, Mister Skeleton."

Sans shakes his head. "you're unbelievable. never met someone who could _rattle my bones_ in a pun-off."

You snort. "Put a little _backbone_ into it, buddy, or you'll get steamrollered."

The two of you exchange puns for a while until a spider-lady introducing herself as Muffet comes and takes your orders.

"i'll have a coffee. black, no cream, two sugars."

"Um, I'll have a Spider Donut and a coffee. Double-double." Muffet giggles a little at that and you feel like you could kick yourself. Even after three years, you can't shake your old life.

Sans raises an eyebrow, or rather, a line in his skull, as Muffet walks away to get your food.

"what's a double-double?"

You blush a little. "Oh, well, it's, um, a Canadian thing. Two creams, two sugars. I was born and raised in Canada but I moved here after, um, a couple of things happened."

Sans nods but doesn't pry, which you're devoutly thankful for.

"welp, we got time to kill. when do ya gotta be back at school, (y/n)?"

"Oh, 1:00. It's 12:40, so I can stick around."

"great," Sans says, and leans forward, propping his chin up on his bony fingers. He looks at you expectantly.

Oh, darn. He's expecting you to start some conversation.

"Um... so... um..." You're internally dying as you stammer for words.

Sans laughs again. "i've never met a human who's this bad with talking."

You flush, embarrassed. Sans chuckles again and waves an airy hand.

"hey, no sweat. guess you're just the quiet type, huh? i can work with that."

You smile a little, glad for his understanding. "Yeah, I'm kinda... awkward when it comes to socializing. Well, except with people I know well."

"i get that," Sans nods. "you always been this shy?"

"Oh, well..." You look away, pushing back the memories that threaten to render you into a sobbing and emotional heap. There is no way you're bursting into tears here. Nope. Uh-uh. "I've always been, the, um, bookish type. Guess I spent so much time behind books that I, um, forgot how to socialize." You smile sheepishly.

"well, you seem like the kind of lady who likes to pass time at libraries. i like reading too."

"Really? What kind of books?"

"oh, mostly non-fiction. science, stuff like that. and joke books."

"Joke books? Big surprise."

Sans huffs a little. "well, my brilliant mind can only get me so far in the comedic world."

"Brilliant mind? You're a skeleton, aren't you?"

"it's an expression, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, big guy."

"you're mocking my height now?"

"Looks like I touched a _nerve_."

Sans glares at you and mutters, "my bro is a lot taller. we're not all that short."

You perk up. "You have a brother? What's his name?"

"papyrus. he's a real sweet guy. you'll like 'im."

"So, Papyrus and Sans? You're fonts."

"ah, shuddup. i get that enough already. y'know how many humans have mocked my name? i'm a cheesy, overused font."

His tone sounds a little annoyed now, so you blush. "S-sorry," you mumble. _Another stupid blunder in the life of (y/n),_ you think unhappily.

Sans shrugs, his voice settling back into his lazy rumble. "no big. i'm a little behind the times. in the underground, we didn't have a whole lot in terms of technology, y'know? we had a rudimentary internet thing, though. it was called UnderNet."

Huh? An internet connection underground? "How does that even work?" Your eyes widen, trying to process this information. "Did you have, like, a generator or something? There's no way you had, um, electricity down there... is there?"

Sans smiles lazily. "actually, we did. it was called the CORE. i helped build it, you know." He looks at you expectantly.

Oh, right. He's trying to make that sound impressive.

You nod, trying to look excited, even though you aren't exactly awestruck by that. Sans seems to be satisfied with that, and continues.

"so anyway. it was this huge generator thing, except it was so powerful that it could power a whole-- well, kinda small-- population. underground, of all places. it was in a place called hotland. it was, well, hot, as you can prob'ly guess. so it's powered by geothermal energy."

You raise your eyebrows. "Really? That's pretty cool. I mean, um, harnessing geothermal energy to, um, power the underground. But h-how could it, like, um, keep itself from overheating? I mean, you said that it was in Hotland, was it? So then... what'd you do?"

Sans shrugs nonchalantly. "we had a guy to toss some ice chunks from snowdin, which is where i used to live. since it's pretty chilly up there, or rather," Sans smiles cheekily. " _down there,_ we had plenty of ice to spare. the chunks got carried down to the CORE, and tha's about it."

"Wow," you breathe. "That's... well, that's...damn. Wow."

Sans shrugs smugly. "well, i'm a smart guy. i'd be teachin' in universities if they'd..." He cuts himself off, glaring at the table.

"Oh." Well, of course humans wouldn't accept monster education for job applications. That could've been understandable under different conditions. Unfortunately, monsters were being deprived of even the simplest things. Now, it was just another thing to deny them.

Muffet trots over, bearing cups of coffee and your doughnut. "Enjoy, my dears. Ahuhuhu~"

As quickly as she appears, she's gone again.

The hell?

You sip your drink and nibble on your doughnut. It tastes pretty good, even though there are suspicious-looking crunchy bits that seem awfully like actual spiders. The coffee is... well, you've had better.

Sans watches you eat for a while, which you find a little unsettling. Noticing your pointed look, he picks up his coffee and drains it in one gulp.

"What the fuck?" Your jaw drops open and you stare at him incredulously. "Did you just--"

"first, i didn't think you were the swearing kind of person. second, yeah. my tongue isn't made of bone, but it can't sense heat the way humans can. the worst that can happen is that i get a little tickling sensation."

You sit there and gape at him for at least a minute before returning to your doughnut. "Sans, you're really something, you know that?"

"so i've been told."

"No, not like that!" You survey him intently. "You're... so much different from how humans imagine skeletons. We have all our stupid Halloween decorations with bony guys we call skeletons but... wow. You're a physical wonder."

Sans looks away, trying not to look pleased with your comment, but he's obviously flattered by all this. _Give up the tough guy act, pal,_ you think smugly to yourself. 

Sans clears his throat and gets up. "welp. i guess i gotta go, buddy. duty calls."

You raise an eyebrow. "Huh? D'you have a job already?"

The short skeleton scratches his skull. "part-time."

"How're you gonna manage teaching and... whatever part-time job you have? It's gonna be pretty tough, you know. Our high school, um, isn't a nice, easy place to teach at."

Sans shrugs. "shouldn't be a problem for me. i'm made of tough stuff." He taps his radius lightly and chuckles a little. "anyway, i dunno if you wanna keep in touch until i move in, but i can give ya my number. so we can, y'know, clear up any complications with my move or anything."

"Sure, Sans." He fishes in his pockets for a while and produces a crumpled piece of paper with a phone number and his name scrawled untidily on it, which you promptly put in your purse.

Rolling your eyes, you finish off your coffee and pop the last of the pastry into your mouth. "Well, um, I have to go now, Sans. I've got five minutes to make it back to school and I can't afford to be late. So, uh..."

You fumble with your purse for a second before sticking out a shaky hand. Sans reaches out and--

_PBFLFBFLBLFLBLT._

Really? A whoopee cushion?

"You're a nutter," you tell him, unable to keep the amusement out of your voice.

\---

Sighing, you flop onto your lumpy mattress and stare at the ceiling. It's been a tough day, the kind that requires about seven large cups of coffee to keep you focused. You burrow into your blankets, expecting sleep, but you get none. Some of the caffeine is still surging in your veins.

It's eerily quiet in your little apartment, and dark. Too dark. Darkness means fear. Fear means...

You get out of bed and shuffle over to the kitchen, wrapping your ratty old robe around you. The air chills you to the bone (ha, if Sans was here to hear that, he'd be insufferable) even though it's not very cold. 

"I need a drink," you mutter to yourself. But there's no way you're going back into that awful habit. The pain and depression from those days is enough to keep you off alcohol for a long time.

You're jumpy and nervous now, and in an old, lonely apartment, you're feeling more on edge than ever. It's been a long time since you've been scared of the dark, but every shadow seems to loom over you, threatening to jump out at you and...

 _Stop that,_ you tell yourself sharply. There's no use thinking up nightmare fuel when you're already jumping at harmless shadows. The best remedy for this situation is probably tea, you reckon.

After some quick rummaging around in your mostly bare kitchen cabinets, you find some old tea bags. Green tea. It's not the worst thing to drink right now. The extra energy might enable you to do some work before tiring out. You fill a kettle with water and set it on your stove, waiting for it to boil.

In the meantime, you glance at your phone, checking for any notifications. Surprisingly, you've got a text message sent about a minute ago from a number that you recognize. It's Sans' number.

Quickly adding him to your contacts, you type a reply.

_Sans: you awake?_

_(y/n): Nope_

_Sans: k then_

_(y/n): Get rekt_

_Sans: what the hell_

Whoops. He must not be familiar with internet memes yet. You grin maliciously.

_(y/n): Do you even meme bro?_

_Sans: um_

_Sans: what's a meme_

_(y/n): meme - mēm - noun_

_an element of a culture or system of behavior that may be considered to be passed from one individual to another by nongenetic means, especially imitation._

_a humorous image, video, piece of text, etc. that is copied (often with slight variations) and spread rapidly by Internet users._

_Sans: color me confused._

_(y/n): Wow okay_

Your tea kettle begins hissing and steam starts puffing out the little spout. Taking it off the stove carefully, you pour some out into a chipped mug.

_(y/n): Hey, can I ask a favour?_

_Sans: shoot_

_(y/n): Can you call? It's too quiet around here and I just wanna hear someone's voice_

_Sans: i could just pop on over_

_(y/n): Hell no it's one in the morning_

_Sans: fine, lemme call_

Shaking your head, you dunk the tea bag into the hot water and swirl it around absently. The vibrating of your phone startles you out of your thoughts.

"Hello?"

"knock knock."

You sigh. "Sans, really?"

"knock knock."

"Sans."

"i said, knock knock."

"Fine, who's there?"

"déja."

"Déja who?"

"knock knock."

It takes a moment for the joke to sink in, but when you get it, you almost crush your phone with exasperation.

"God, that was so bad and yet so clever," you groan.

"i'm a skeleton of many talents."

"And one of them is bad puns, little skelly."

"again with my height? c'mon."

You laugh. "I can't help it. You're just... a little babybones!"

Sans grunts in response.

Taking a sip of tea, you hear shuffling on the other end of the phone.

"What're you doing over there? Sounds a little noisy."

"oh, nothin'," Sans mutters. "could ya just keep it down? it's early in the morning and some people'll want their sleep."

"Sure thing," you say in a stage whisper, which makes Sans laugh a little. It sounds a lot different when he's trying to be quiet. Raspy and rough.

"so you wanted to hear the sound of my velvet voice?" He lowers his tone until it's a nearly indistinct rumble. You snort.

"Nah, it was just... a little eerie, you know? It was so dark and..."

"haha, are you  _scared_ of the dark?"

"Shut up!" Sans ignores your protests and laughs and laughs until he suddenly stops.

"crap," you hear Sans breathe.

"What's going on, Sans?" You're sweating almost immediately, clutching your phone like a lifeline.

"it's my bro. he's awake."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gonna be infrequent updates from now on i think but i'm gonna try to keep this rolling cos i like writing this.
> 
> still undecided 'bout the smut, okay? dunno if it's gonna happen.
> 
> also cliffhangers for dayz lololol
> 
> [All characters and events in this work—even those based on real people or video game characters—are entirely fictional. All lines of dialogue are thought-up and written.....poorly. The following fanfiction contains coarse language, alcohol, smoking, twerking, blazing it, farting, excessive puns and due to its content it should not be viewed by anyone.]


	3. You Are Offered Spaghetti With A Side of Massive Cleanup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yet another cliche sad story of reader fuhuhuhu and also papyrus is a total cutie oh my gosh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: panic attack warning reader discretion is advised you have been warned retreat now if you must... (chapter summary in end notes)
> 
> [All characters and events in this work—even those based on real people or video game characters—are entirely fictional. All lines of dialogue are thought-up and written.....poorly. The following fanfiction contains coarse language, alcohol, smoking, twerking, blazing it, farting, excessive puns and due to its content it should not be viewed by anyone.]

"BROTHER?" says a loud voice on the other side of the line. "MAY I ASK WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING AT SUCH A LATE HOUR?"

You sigh. "Well, Sans?" Sans doesn't reply, but instead calls back to his brother, "nothin'. don't worry 'bout it, paps. go back to bed, ok? you'll need your sleep so you can make undyne that lasagna ya said you'd been dying to show 'er."

"AH! YES, I HAD FORGOTTEN ABOUT THAT," Papyrus shouts. Jeez, if you can hear him all the way from   Sans' cell phone, how loud is he actually screaming? "HOWEVER, IN ORDER TO SLEEP AT MY DEEPEST SLEEPING CAPACITY, I CANNOT HEAR MUFFLED CONVERSATION AND INCESSANT LAUGHTER. BY THE WAY, IS THAT YOUR CELL PHONE, BROTHER DEAR? WHO ARE YOU CONVERSING WITH??"

His tone is getting louder and louder and more enthusiastic as he speaks to Sans. God help your ears. Papyrus pauses to take a breath, and you swear you hear faint ringing. Great.

"no one. i'm talkin' to no one," Sans replies smoothly.

"NO ONE???" Papyrus ejaculates. "...CAN I TALK TO THEM TOO?"

You wait for a slick and sassy response from Sans, but instead he agrees. "sure thing, bro."

Seriously, Sans? Your palms are slippery with sweat as you hear Papyrus shout a greeting to you. Stranger danger. Stranger danger.

"H-hello?"

"GOOD MORNING, NO ONE! IT IS I, THE GRRRREAT PAPYRUS!"

You wince a little. Good God, he's so. Fucking. Loud.

"Yeah, m-morning. Y-you're Papyrus, right? Sans, um, told be a lot about you..." You introduce yourself hastily, hoping he doesn't notice the anxiety in your voice.

"YES, I KNOW! HE TOLD ME ABOUT A YOUNG LADY HUMAN HE MET AT A CAFE! WE ARE MOVING IN WITH YOU SHORTLY, JUST AS SOON AS WE PACK OUR THINGS AND HEAD OUT OF THIS MONSTER CAMP!"

"Oh, y-you're moving in, too?"

"YES. APPARENTLY, I WAS TO MOVE IN WITH YOU BY MYSELF, BUT APPARENTLY YOU PUT IN TWO APPLICATIONS, SO FOR CONVENIENCE, THEY PUT SANS IN WITH ME! HOW COOL IS THAT?"

You rub your ear. "Yeah, that's p-pretty convenient."

"I KNOW! AND SINCE WE'RE MOVING IN, I WAS THINKING I COULD MAKE YOU A PLATE OF MY FAMOUS, YUMMY SPAGHETTI AS A SIGN OF AMITY."

Spaghetti? Is he a good cook? Is monster food even _like_ human food?

"That... would be great. Thanks, Papyrus."

"NOT A PROBLEM, HUMAN! NYEH HEH HEH!!!" Papyrus cries exuberantly. "HOWEVER... THERE IS A TEENSY TINY ISSUE TO WORK OUT."

You gulp. "What's the issue, Papyrus?"

"WELL, THE PAPERS I RECEIVED FROM THE GOVERNMENT CONCERNING SANS' AND ME MOVING IN SAID YOU MIGHT HAVE A SHORTAGE OF SPACE."

Oh, brother. Papyrus is right. You only have room for one, and that's with an inflatable mattress on the floor of your cramped living room. If you're gonna be letting two skeletons room with you, there's only one option.

"You know what, Papyrus? I've got a small spare room in my apartment. You and Sans could sleep in there, or one of you could, erm, sleep on the couch while the other sleeps in the spare room," you offer nervously. You're half-hoping he refuses, since, well... it was a mess.

There is a pause, followed by a very distinct "WHAT DO YOU THINK, BROTHER?" and a faint rumble in response. 

"SANS AGREES! HUMAN! WE ARE HUMBLED TO BE ABLE TO LIVE IN YOUR ABODE. WOULD YOU LIKE US TO VISIT TOMORROW TO DISCUSS ARRANGEMENTS FURTHER?"

You frown. You'll have to explain your spare-room-disaster situation, and maybe it'll be better to show them the situation firsthand. Might help them see the scope of the work involved and maybe, just maybe, they could help you salvage what was left of the grubby little room.

"Sure thing," you say. "Tomorrow is a Saturday, so I've got plenty of time. Come over at noon, and we'll talk then. I've got, uh, a couple of important things to discuss... that would be easier explained in person."

"OF COURSE! I'LL BE SURE TO BRING A POT OF MY SPECIAL SPAGHETTI. HUH? WHAT IS IT, SANS? OH. WHAT?" You can hear Sans muttering to his brother, who sounds utterly baffled. "NONSENSE, SANS. EVERYBODY EATS GLITTER AND SEQUINS. IF FRISK CAN, SO CAN THIS HUMAN."

Sequins? Glitter? You blink several times, bewildered.

"HUMAN! SANS WOULD LIKE TO TALK TO YOU NOW. IS THAT ALRIGHT? I KNOW IT PAINS YOU TO BE AWAY FROM MY BEAUTIFUL VOICE, BUT IT BEHOOVES ME TO MAKE MY NICE (THOUGH LESS AWESOME) BROTHER HAPPY."

Aw, Papyrus. You're already charmed by this bunch of bones. "Yes, that would be good, Papyrus."

"OKIE DOKIE. GOOD DAY, HUMAN."

After a moment, you hear rustling as Papyrus passes the telephone to his brother.

"heya," Sans murmurs.

"Hi," you reply quietly. "Why are we being so quiet?'

"i actually have no idea. paps is probably gonna be cooking now. the idea of "falling back to sleep" is completely new to the guy."

You suppress a giggle. "He's adorable," you say in a hushed voice.

"what didja expect? he's a real sweetie. lives for pasta and tomato sauce. would never hurt a fly, much less a human."

"Ditto. He's a little cinnamon roll!"

"i knew you'd like 'im. everyone does, actually."

"He really is the most innocent thing, hm?"

"yeah, i know." Sans sounds deadly serious now, making you jittery and nervous. Had you done something wrong already? No, no, no. Calm down. It's fine. Just the overprotective brother, right?

Sans clears his throat and you hear shifting noises from the other end. You steel yourself, closing your eyes tightly.

"listen, pal." His voice drops an octave. "i hate violence as much as the next guy. but... my bro, he's the only family i have. and he's a real nice guy, right? 's only fair that, well, whatever you do to harm him... you'll get your just punishment. so lemme lay it out for ya. don't hurt papyrus, and i won't hurt you. i'll treat ya as my friend. but if i hear the smallest squeak you hurt papyrus?"

Your palms are slick with sweat as you clutch your phone feverishly, heart pounding fearfully. Sharp pains shoot through your chest. No, not again. Not again.

Sans' voice is a barely audible rasp. "you're gonna have a bad time."

A pregnant pause. You can practically hear your breaths, ragged and trembling.

It's too much for you. Your heart is racing with fear and shock and your breathing is getting funny and you tremble violently. Fear. Shock. Betrayal. Sadness. Anger. You can't breathe. You can't breathe. You're going to die. You're going to die. He's going to kill you someday. Can't breathe. Count to three. Going to die. One. Can't breathe. Die. Two. Fear. Breathe. Three. Clear your mind. Dying. Kill. Threaten. Breathe. Breathe. Shaking. Blurry. Sans. Noise. Too much. Too much. Count. Death. Breathe. Breathe. Panic? Breathe. Calm. Suppression. Calm. Calm. Breathe. Calm. One, two. Shaking. Three. Calm. Fear. Breathe.

You slam down the phone, suppressing sobs.

\---

Sunlight streams through the threadbare curtains of your small bedroom, piercing your eyes as you look around. Ow. The brightness bounces around your skull while a dull ache throbs in your head. Feels like a hangover.

The events of last night thunder through your head suddenly. God, all you want to do is curl up in a ball in your bed and stay there forevermore. Unfortunately, you've got lots to do today, and none of it's gonna do itself. 

Hooray for you.

Staggering to the kitchen, your stomach lurches. It's hard to move around in your hangover-like state. Your vision is fuzzy around the edges and either the world is doing a huge 360-degree noscope or your head is spinning faster than that teacup ride at Disney World.

Even in your foggy state, one thing is clear. The tea kettle isn't where it used to be. Your dishes and junk are cleared off the counter and piled neatly in your dish-drying rack. The chairs at the table looked messed up. And a bottle of aspirin and water sits on the table with a note.

Yep. Someone was in here while you slept.

And judging by the blue sweater draped on the chair, you know exactly who it was.

Before you get too worked up, you pick up the scrap of paper and read the hastily-scrawled message.

_gone out to grab some essentials for you. sit tight._

Frowning, you mull over the note. So he had come over. Sans. Uninvited. But he had cared for you while you were in your panic attack? How did he have the balls to comfort you when he was the one who triggered you?

Ow. Thinking is not good for your pounding head. Better focus on something else.

You down the aspirin and water quickly and sigh. What a shitty morning. A raging headache that was only slightly getting better, a skeleton who doesn't seem to know what privacy is and the fact that you just had your first panic attack in literal years.

Man, a drink would be amazing right now.

You're about to go raid your cabinets for liquor in a fit of desperation, but as if on cue, Sans almost seems to appear out of nowhere.

Your heart nearly stops as you jump, startled by his sudden entrance. Where the hell did he come from? Jesus. You sink into a chair, breathing heavily.

"hey." Sans sounds slightly nervous as he pulls on his coat. (Why did he take it off in the first place?) He's carrying a plastic grocery bag stuffed with food and medicine. Guess he did buy some stuff.

"Hey," you say shortly. Some of last night's feelings are coming back, and it's taking a lot of self-control to stop yourself from crying uncontrollably or screaming hysterically.

Your body decides to do both. 

And so, despite your best efforts, you end up wailing in distress and shrieking in a fit of anger and betrayal. Great. Just great. Funny little snorting noises are coming out of your mouth as you try to stifle your sobs, which makes the whole thing even more embarrassing.

They'll be remembering this one for years.

Surprisingly, Sans comes over and gently holds you in his arms, shushing you and whispering soothing words. Even though you're still a little upset at Sans, you can't help but sniffle and bury your face in Sans' fluffy hood as he pulls you close, murmuring words too soft to hear.

"W-why are you here?" Wiping your nose sloppily, you sit back and look at him blearily. Sans shrugs lazily.

"welp. let's just say that the sounds of someone having a panic attack on the phone is enough to get anyone over to their house and watch over them for a lil' bit," he says nonchalantly. He offers you some painkillers from the bag.

"How long... did you stay for?" You drink the pills and water slowly.

The skeleton turns his hands palms-up. "hard to say. probably th' entire night, till about sunrise. then i went out to get you some stuff," he gestures to the grocery bag on the table.

You stare at the bag, then at Sans. "Oh. Okay."

Awkward moment.

"want some coffee? tea? you look like death punched you in the face." Sans remarks blithely, which makes you redden with embarrassment and irritation. 

"That'd be good. Coffee, please."

Sans busies himself in your kitchen, heating the water and scrounging up the last few spoonfuls of coffee grounds. "so i gotta talk to ya for a sec," he begins sheepishly as he waits for the kettle to boil.

Oh, no. You look up at him and nod slowly. This does not bode well for you.

"i'm sorry 'bout last night," he mutters, cheeks turning a faint shade of blue. His version of a blush? "i know i scared you bad. and i prob'ly wasn't welcome here after... well, y'know."

Well, he got one thing right. "Yeah?"

"but like i said, my brother is the only family i have in my life, and if i lost 'im, i'd be crushed. i musta gave ya a real fright yesterday, but, see... not all of the humans i've met in my life have been as merciful as you."

You glare at him, bolstered by a sudden spurt of anger. "What makes you think," you say quietly, "that I've forgiven you? Last night was the first time I've had a panic attack in a while. What the hell am I supposed to tell my doctor, huh? Not to mention that you were damn near threatening to kill me."

Sans backs up, holding his hands in the air. "hey hey hey, let's not get too mad. you know that i--"

"No, I forgave you already," you say heavily. "It was just kind of traumatic. Being threatened by a monster who just happens to be the first real monster friend you've made just... makes me a little warier of you guys now. That's what made me wonder why you thought I'd forgiven you so quickly."

Sans looks away and laughs nervously. "ok. that's cool."

The kettle wails for attention, and the conversation drifts to a halt as the short skeleton prepares two mugs of hot coffee. You watch his fingers work as he pours water. They're still so fascinating, the way the faint wisps of magic connect his bones without joints. And his hands are malleable, for some reason. Like real fingers.

"here ya go," Sans says briskly as he sets a mug in front of you. You smile as you notice that he's remembered the way you take your coffee. "mind if i have a seat?"

You shake your head, gulping the coffee quickly, despite the fact that it scalds your tongue. Oh, it's heaven to your muddled brain and sluggish muscles. You let out a soft moan, closing your eyes happily until you see Sans smirking at you.

"Oh," you mutter. Is your face on fire? "I, uh..."

"s'okay. it was hilarious," Sans says slyly. Oh, you're going to get back at him for that.

"So is Papyrus coming over today? To discuss apartment arrangements?"

Sans sits bolt upright. "fuck!" He gropes around his pockets and produces an old flip phone. Of course he'd use that, what with him being a skeleton and all. Touchscreen phones must be impossible for him to use. "i completely forgot to tell paps that i was comin' to your place! wha'm i gonna tell him? he can't know... that you... uh... crap!"

Poor Sans is sweating so much, you can literally see sweat drops on his skull. Wait, what? How can a skeleton sweat?! "Tell him... tell him that you came early!"

"like he'll believe that. i've got a tendency to be late for stuff."

Damn. "I'll tell him that... I called you over to, um... plan a surprise for him?"

Sans looks at you doubtfully. "whaddaya got for him as a surprise?"

Grinning, you stand up and look in the grocery bag Sans had bought. "Did you buy any baking supplies?"

\---

One of your few talents is actually baking, and thank God you have a foolproof, last-minute recipe for chocolate chip cookies. It turns out that Sans didn't buy any baking ingredients, but you do have plenty at home. In half an hour, you've already got the cookies baking in the oven and a tray of tea, sugar and milk set out on your table. Papyrus should be arriving in ten minutes, and by then, the cookies should be ready. You feel immensely proud of yourself and even Sans is trying to look unimpressed and ultimately failing.

After telling Sans to keep out of your room for a second, you hastily change clothes. Pyjama pants and a tank top are definitely not gonna cut it if a guest is visiting. After quick deliberation, you pick a modest cream-coloured sweater and skinny jeans. Not too shabby and not too formal.

Running back out to the kitchen, you find Sans nibbling a cookie fresh from the oven. He looks up as you enter and comically shoves the rest of the cookie into his mouth, chewing quickly. 

"wassup," he says casually though a mouthful of cookie, though it sounds more like "watthup". Laughing, you inspect the cookies and shake your head. "These coulda been undercooked, you know," you chide Sans.

Sans shrugs. "they ain't undercooked, though. so i'm fine," he says smugly and nabs another cookie.

Before you can come up with a snappy retort, the door is flung open with a bang.

"What the fuck???" You splutter. "I locked that door!"

"NYEH HEH HEH HEH!!! I, THE GRRRRRREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE COME TO RECEIVE MY SURPRISE!" Papyrus, in all of his bony glory, stands in the doorway dramatically, holding a bouquet of flowers and a gigantic plate of spaghetti. "I BRING FOOD AND FLOWERS AS A THANK YOU FOR WHATEVER WONDERFUL THING YOU HAVE GOTTEN ME."

You can only stand there and gape, looking at the door, then the spaghetti, then the flowers, then Papyrus. Sans, however, looks pleased to see his brother.

"hey, paps. good to see ya. seems like you brought some of your im- _pasta_ -bly good spaghetti," he smirks. Papyrus looks outraged.

"SANS! I DID NOT COME ALL THIS WAY JUST TO ENDURE MORE OF YOUR TASTELESS PUNS! I CAME TO SEE-- is that cookies I smell?"

His voice has gone soft as he looks at you curiously.

"Y-yes," you mumble, looking at your shoes.

Papyrus stands very still.

The next second, he's hugging you and NYEH-HEH-HEHing and kissing your cheeks and your nose and lifting you off your feet, crying out his gratitude for your cookies while shoving about seven at a time into his large mouth. (What the fuck???) His mouth, you notice, is more rigid and bone-like. Much more like the stereotypical skeleton, and a lot more different from his brother. Eventually, after several minutes of cuddling,  you manage to extract yourself from Papyrus' vice-like grip and serve everyone tea. You haven't forgotten why you invited the skeletons over, even though it's nice to be revered for making unusually good cookies.

You make a big show of stirring your tea as Papyrus and Sans munch on the cookies. Your stomach churns as you rehearse the carefully thought-out words in your head, explaining what the few hurried words on the phone could not convey. You want to make a good impression with the two skelebros, but you know that being too lenient will get you nowhere. Being assertive, however, isn't exactly one of your strong suits.

"So," you begin, trying to keep your tone even. "I've been thinking over this f-for a bit, seeing as you're going to be my new roomies soon. And I want you to be as comfy as possible... which is a problem for me. Because I only have one spare room, and that's... ummm... I think it's best if you have a look."

Sans shrugs in his usual laid-back way. Papyrus looks apprehensive as he follows you to a musty corner of your apartment where a cracked door is, locked and neglected. You take a deep breath, fear tickling you briefly. It had been so long since you'd opened this door, and you're considering telling Sans and Papyrus that it was a joke and that there was nothing to see and to get out now, please. Unfortunately, you know it's too late to get cold feet.

You grasp the rusty doorknob and before you can change your mind, open the door with a click.

Sans and Papyrus gasp in unison as you reveal the small world inside your spare room. It was pretty damn messy, for sure. You smile to yourself as you see all your old stuff from your previous apartments, including that hideous carpet that Isabelle had puked on once. (Long story.) Then your eyes trail over to a thick, dusty, yellow woollen scarf. And that's when you sniff a little, fighting back tears.

Some would call it a spare room, but to you, it was also a shrine to your grandmother, your beloved Nana, as you called her so long ago. Your kind, selfless guardian who cared for you when no other soul would. The intelligent, wise and clever mother figure of your life. The remnants of her life had stayed here for years, given to you after her death, too painful to look at. The agony is still fresh in your heart, but you steel yourself and walk in.

It's as if pieces of your life are falling back into the puzzle of your heart. You're nearly overwhelmed by the feelings that assault you: joy, nostalgia, but also a heavy, lingering sadness. You see all of Nana's old stuff, from her collection of china dogs to her old rocking chair. Your childhood plays in rewind in front of you, every single beautiful, cherished memory from those days with Nana. Of course, it hurts to see all of your happy days knowing that they've long passed you by, but still...

When you turn around, you can see that Sans is holding an old photo album of Nana's. "wanna talk?" he asks gently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who skipped (I SEE YOU BILLY): Sans gives his bad time speech to you, you get a panic attack, Papyrus comes over and is cute, you show them the spare room, mysterious grandma is revealed.
> 
> it's here the chapter that took more than a week to write because i've been busy with my family n stuff. hopefully the next chap should be here in about 1-2 weeks cos i'm gonna get even busier. cross your fingers, folks. i'm just gonna say it outright that i may never really get a posting schedule till about fall since summer for me is busy as all hell, so by fall i should have some posting schedule. can i also mention that this took ages to write because this was so HARD TO WRITE LIKE SERIOUSLY i could not get it to sound right so woohoo for me. tell me if it's bad or rushed and i WILL fix because man i hated the massive edits i had to do but i do it for you guys *kawaii face* thanks for all the kudos and awesome comments, you guys ROCK! or MINERAL! or DIRT!
> 
> p.s: a big surprise is coming soon :D  
> p.p.s: oh damn i only put ONE PUN in the entire chapter. i need help  
> p.p.p.s: as i type this: 6 comments 66 kudos loominarty confirm???
> 
> ALSO IMPORTANT NEWS: I love seeing you guys comment on my work, it's really gratifying to have people like my writing enough to say something positive and oftentimes funny about it. However, I won't reply to them because I don't like seeing my comment count go up and make people think that I've gotten tons of comments when really it's all been me. But worry not! The surprise will take care of that and so much more!! So don't worry, I love you guys, but don't feel bad if I don't reply to your comment!


	4. Your Friends Decline The Massive Cleanup and You Discover That Papyrus Cannot Cook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pink tomato sauce? now i've seen it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TENKS FOR DA SUPPORTZ FER MA STOREE and the big surprise has been purposely delayed because... idk i'm still working on it. if you stalk my wattpad, you know what it is. aaaaaaaaand here we go
> 
>  
> 
> [All characters and events in this work—even those based on real people or video game characters—are entirely fictional. All lines of dialogue are thought-up and written.....poorly. The following fanfiction contains coarse language, alcohol, smoking, twerking, blazing it, farting, excessive puns and due to its content it should not be viewed by anyone.]

You hesitate, unsure if you should tell these two adorable skeletons. You barely knew them, and no matter how charming they seemed, you knew that charm was a fickle thing.

Papyrus looks concerned. "HUMAN, IF YOU DO NOT WISH TO TELL US EVERYTHING..."

Clearing your throat, you look up at Papyrus' sweet, worried face and smile bravely. "No, no. It's fine. I think it's time I talked about it."

The last time you had talked about your past was with Isabelle, and even though you trusted her more than anyone, you still couldn't bring yourself to show her the spare room yet. Why were you showing it to _monsters_ whom you had known for barely a week?

You found yourself answering the question before it formed clearly in your mind. You knew, in the deepest corners of your soul, that Papyrus and Sans were good. _Good_ was too weak a word to describe your feeling about them, but there wasn't a better word in the English language to describe it, though you wished there was. There was something in them, pure kindness and loyalty and sweetness and wonderful things you often thought existed in fairy tales. They had a sort of gentleness, a great, overwhelming aura of warmth. And you knew-- no, you _felt_ that you could trust them with many, many things, and they would never divulge them or treat you badly for them. They could be your friends, true and kind people who would be there no matter what. Your heart swelled with new affection for the two boneheads and your face softened.

"you don't have to tell us everythin' if you ain't comfortable," offers Sans, looking at you anxiously.

"I know," you murmur, gathering your thoughts.

How does one tell their life story?

The words that tumble out your mouth aren't thoughts, you quickly realize, but feelings. Even though your mind screams for you to stop, you set your jaw and let the words flow.

"It's hard learning to cope, when you lose the constant in your life, the rock. Learning to stay calm and keep the poker face. Learning to toughen up against the worst fate had to offer. Learning and pushing blindly through life. Nana was my best friend and my mentor, if not mom, in life, and when I lost her... I was a sheep without its flock, a star without its sky. I was barely twelve when she died. They told me it was from old age, but something else happened to her. I'm sure of it.

"I was still small, probably not much older than three, when they sent me to her. I lived in an orphanage before. Can't remember much from that time, to be honest. My parents... the caregivers told me that they were in no state to care for a child.  All I know is that the orphanage people were hesitant to send me to Nana since they thought she was a bit bizarre. Old lady, living alone near the foot of a huge mountain no one dared approach. Jobless, probably growing batty from loneliness and grief. Regardless, the orphanage let me go. I think they weren't too keen on keeping me. They perceived me as a bug needing to be squashed, the child who refused to bow to their crushing practices. I was actually a precocious sort of child back then, and, well, they hated that.

"I can pretty well remember the day I arrived on Nana's doorstep like it was yesterday. She came out to her porch, ignored the orphanage guy and squinted at me, and you know what she said? 'You look just like your dear mum,' she said. And she came down the steps and hugged me tight. From then on, I knew that she was, in the best sense of the word, kind. Day after day, she proved it. It took a while for me to reciprocate, but eventually, I did.

"The thing we ended up bonding over the most was baking. She adored baking, and she adored teaching me how to bake as well. Her personal 'baking assistant', she liked to call me. Every day Nana would call me into the kitchen and show me a new recipe. She'd make up some silly story on how she couldn't do some small task that was 'crucial' to the recipe, like peeling apples or sifting flour, and then I'd do it for her. We baked as many delicacies as we did disasters in that little kitchen of hers, but when we made something that wasn't quite good we laughed so much afterwards that I think she kind of liked those screw-ups.

"If there was one thing about Nana though, it was her mysteriousness. I knew her surface well enough; she liked the color yellow, she hated cats and wanted a pet hamster, she used to have brown hair... but there was a vast part of her that I only ever got glimpses of. And I don't think she was ever gonna let me get more than that. She was damn good at avoiding questions, and the few she ever answered gave me nothing but vague answers. I knew my parents both grew up and got married here, they moved to Canada, and then just dropped me in an orphanage near Ebottville after a few months. Nana never told me why they moved, or why I was dumped in the orphanage. I pestered her for months, but eventually I gave up. All she ever said was, "That's a story for another day, (y/n), dear." But my curiosity never waned over the years.

"Another subject she tried to avoid with me was her profession, or at least her former profession that was now her hobby. She was definitely in the field of science, though. Everywhere in our house, there was books and books of science. No particular strand of science, just general stuff. She never let me touch them, and when I came to close to them, she'd... well, she wouldn't get mad. Nana would just sigh and look at me, and I'd know that I had misbehaved. But I couldn't just let it slide. She would sometimes give me a toy or cookies, and disappear into the attic for about half an hour. Then she would reappear later, tired and frustrated and disheveled. Being the good woman that she was, she never took out that frustration on me. Instead, she'd bake for the rest of the day nonstop, probably venting her feelings on the poor pastries. Surprisingly, the stuff she made on 'grumpy days', as I thought of them as, tasted awesome.

"There was one time, though. Nana was out grocery shopping and she'd left me to watch the house while she was gone. I think I was about ten, maybe. When I was sure she was gone, I ran up to the attic and peeked inside. I figured it couldn't hurt to have a quick look and I was dying with curiosity, anyway. What did I have to lose? So I simply stuck my head in and looked around. I was starstruck, awed by all the stuff she had up there. There were piles of papers and notebooks, filled with Nana's tiny cursive, all about sciencey things I didn't understand at the time, and to this day, I still don't. There were a ton of complicated formulas and stuff of that calibre, not to mention some really weird-looking diagrams. I remember feeling a little disappointed that she wasn't doing stuff like rocket science and launching huge missiles in our backyard.

"So there was life for me for a while. Baking, eating, snooping, smiling. Seven years of that heaven. It wasn't perfect, and it wasn't a fairy tale, but it was wonderful. For me and for Nana. We weren't rich, we didn't have much, but it was enough.

"Eventually... that all screeched to a halt."

You take a deep breath and concentrate on your voice, fighting the burning sensation behind your eyes.

"Nana... she went out a lot. Sometimes she shopped, sometimes she went to chat with a neighbour, sometimes she just went for a walk. She was a strong and healthy lady at her age, and she never got into accidents or injured herself. I used to joke that she'd never need to get a walker or a cane like the other old ladies in town. 

"One day, she never came back."

Tears fall down your face, unbidden, as you continue, trembling.

"I panicked for what seemed like hours. I combed every inch of the house, looked around the bottom of Mt. Ebott, even ventured into town on my own. It was so freaky, because Nana had told me she was just going for a walk round town, and yet it had been nearly half a day and she was still gone. I felt so lost. After a while, I simply sat on the front porch and sobbed, just sobbed my eyes out until the police showed up. They looked so detached, with their set and serious faces. That was one of things I can remember clearly. One of them, a man, looked me in the eye, kneeled down and said, quite plainly, 'Is your grandmother's name Georgia, kiddo?' I nodded, and then he whispered softly, 'She's gone. I'm sorry.' As soon as those words registered, I screamed bloody murder. I just sat there and shrieked, bawling indistinct words and noises, waiting for Nana to come, to kiss my forehead and hug me. She never did, and I screamed until my throat was raw and scratchy. After a few minutes, the man picked me up, put me in his police cruiser. His face was no longer stiff and stern, but rather, tender and sympathetic, as he drove me. I remember being put in a hard chair. Men asked me questions from across a steel table and I simply stayed silent. My voice was too hoarse and I don't think I would've said a thing even if my voice was in shape to do so.

"It took a week to coax me out of my silence, and by then, they'd gathered all the information they needed to rule Nana's death as an accident, a death by natural causes. I refused to accept it. I insisted, told them that she was in fine form, excellent condition. They dismissed me and chose not to do another autopsy. I was crushed, and with nowhere to go, the authorities tried to send me back to the orphanage. That place was closed by then, and after learning about my family's history in Canada, sent me to live in another orphanage there. And from then on, I s-swore to never love, to never be as bright, loud and lively as I once was with Nana, so that part of me would... would always be locked away. For her."

You finally dissolve into tears for the second time that day, and Sans hugs you tightly, rubbing your back, making quiet, soothing noises. Papyrus rubs your shoulder, pats your head gently and says in a warm and surprisingly soft voice, "Human, worry not. The great and wonderful Papyrus will comfort you. And afterward, we can all feast on the pasta I gave you."

You can't help but smile at his heartfelt and endearing words. "Thanks, Papyrus," you whisper, and the tall skeleton merely winks back.

Sans, meanwhile, is silent as he rubs your lower back muscles slowly. Man, the guy must be good at giving massages, you muse as he works at a muscle you hadn't even realized was tense. Smiling slightly, you relax into him, feeling warm and cozy. Strangely enough, it feels like you're leaning into an actual body, a strong, bulky, heavy-set one, even though Sans has a purely skeletal (and slightly magic) anatomy. It feels... safe.

That was one thing you hadn't felt in a long, long time.

The three of you sit there for a while, basking in the warmth and love until Papyrus springs to his feet and says loudly, "NOW THEN! ENOUGH CUDDLING! WE LOVE YOU VERY MUCH BUT NOW IS THE TIME FOR DELICIOUS! NUTRITIOUS! AND UTTERLY FABULOUS! SPAGHETTI!" You startle for a moment, but quickly relax. Oh, Papyrus. Could that sweet heap of calcium get any more adorable?

You and Sans lounge on the floor in comfortable silence. You've barely known the guy for more than a few days and you're already chummy with that punster. Turning slightly to face him, you see his eye sockets trained on you absently, the tips of his fingers brushing the ends of your hair. His gaze seems so far away as he toys with the strands, his smile softening as you turn toward him.

"So," you say, gently pushing his fingers away. He blinks, but quickly comes back to earth, shifting comfortably on the hardwood. 

"mmhm," he grunts in response.

"What about it? Are you gonna stay in here, or...?"

Sans lifts a shoulder. "hell if i know. i gotta ask paps, but i'm fine wherever. 'sides, i know this place has got some stuff you'd think twice about throwing out. papyrus could sleep on the cot instead, i'll sleep on the couch. i mean, i know papyrus won't mind. matter o' fact, the less of a hassle we are on you, the happier he is. he said that yesterday, you know."

Your heart melts again. "Did he really? That's very kind of him."

Sans coughs. "yeah, he did."

Glancing at him, you notice his smile looks a little forced. Guess someone's feeling left out. You try to say something to make him feel better, but you just can't do it. The sight of him looking so forlorn is too funny, and you let out a snort. A small one, but a snort nonetheless.

Major embarrassing moment. Exit stage left, (y/n).

Sans makes a sour face, still mulling over his irritation. "i volunteered to take that awful, lumpy couch. don't i get something?"

Relieved that he glossed over your mega-humiliating snort, you decide to cut him some slack. "Sorry, Sans. Thanks for sparing your brother from the horrors of my couch."

Sans smiles smugly. "thank you."

You're about to snap his arm in half when Papyrus enters, carrying an enormous pot of spaghetti. "HELLO, FRIENDS! I BRING SPAGHETTI TOPPED WITH MEATBALLS AND... ER, A SPECIAL INGREDIENT. BON APPÉTIT!"

Sans smirks. "dontcha mean... _bon-e_ appétit?"

Papyrus tries to look indignant at his brother's lame pun, but bless him, smiles a little at Sans as he serves him a plate of spaghetti. As he passes you a plate of hot spaghetti, you're about to dig in when you stop.

Wait.

What are those sparkly things on the meatballs?

No.

God, no.

No fucking way.

You prod your food hesitantly, unwilling to believe it. He wasn't serious on the phone yesterday, was he? He didn't actually put... (dare you say it?) sequins in the spaghetti??

Inspecting the food more closely, you notice lots more odd things about the spaghetti. You're no spaghetti connoisseur, but you're fairly certain that there shouldn't be heaps of what looks suspiciously like powdered sugar or large whole scallions in the pasta. And wasn't the pasta supposed to be cooked before being tossed with sauce? And how did the sauce come out pink?

A dozen more questions fly through your mind, but Papyrus is looking at you expectantly, so you know what you have to do.

Twirling your fork slower than necessary, you lift a small amount of pasta to your lips and chew.

Oh. Oh, no. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Your body convulses as soon as you take the first bite and it takes all of your self-control not to barf the entire thing back up on the floor. It tastes of tar and plastic, and the texture is unbearably slimy yet crunchy. Oh, sweet Lord almighty. Your face must be greener than the Wicked Witch of the West.

Papyrus pumps his fist triumphantly and proclaims, "THE HUMAN IS SPEECHLESS! SANS, THEY LOVE MY SPAGHETTI AND MEATBALLS!!"

Sans, who had the foresight to refuse his food, glances at you, then at Papyrus. You give him a pleading look as he opens his mouth to respond.

"papyrus, you made your spaghetti too yummy. look, (y/n)'s suffering from, uh, deliciousness  overload. she needs to rest and not eat anymore spaghetti. for like, a month."

You shake your head at Sans silently, and he clears his throat. "uh, several months. so they can recover from your marvellous spaghetti."

Papyrus looks comically distraught, examining you frantically. "OH NO! HUMAN, I AM SO SORRY. I DID NOT MEAN TO MAKE YOU ILL!"

You feel a little guilty, but the thought of being exempt of his awful pasta is enough to clear your conscience. 

\---

Papyrus insists on having a sleepover with you, saying that he needs to be able to watch over you in case you contract more sicknesses. The gesture is sweet (even though your affliction is nonexistent) and you'll have to get used to sleeping in an apartment with two other skeletons sharing your living quarters anyway. Even though it took about three hours to figure out how to set up the cot for Papyrus, it was worth seeing the big grin on his face as you swathed the little bed with race car blankets you had had in  your closet for ages. You're about to get up and leave when Papyrus frowns.

"HUMAN? ARE YOU GOING TO READ ME A BEDTIME STORY?" He stares at you with big puppy dog eyes, and you know that you won't be able to refuse him now.

Sans strolls in lazily and snickers at you, amused at your reaction. You're very confused. What the heck are you gonna read to him? You haven't the foggiest idea on what kind of books he'd enjoy, and it looks like Sans is not gonna help you now. Welp, guess you gotta go blind.

After perusing your bookshelves, you find a classic. Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. Can't go wrong with that one, right? You plunk yourself down beside Papyrus' cot and Sans sits next to you, knees to his chest. You smile and open the book's dog-eared, yellowing pages. "This is a book called Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. It's the first of seven books, and it's a hit with people all over the world. It's about wizards and magic."

Papyrus perks up. "SANS AND I HAVE MAGIC! DOES THIS STORY INVOLVE SOULS?"

You furrow your eyebrows. What were SOULs all about in terms of monster magic? Making a mental note to ask Sans sometime, you answer Papyrus' question. "Oh, a little. But it's complicated. You'll have to read the other books to understand Horcruxes. Don't worry about souls yet in this book, though."

And with that, you open the book and begin to read.

_"Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense."_

You smile as you delve back into the wizarding world, your first taste of fantasy at its finest as a child. Papyrus laughs at all the funny bits and gapes at all the scary parts. He's a great audience. Sans, meanwhile, snoozes through it all like the lazybones he is. You're not too surprised at this, to be frank.

As you finish the first chapter, Papyrus immediately begs for more. He's already enamoured with the novel, and you feel a little pleased with yourself for picking the book. Unfortunately, Sans wakes up and tells Papyrus to go to bed.

"BUT SANS! WE ARE ABOUT TO MEET THE BOY WHO LIVED! IT IS A VERY EXCITING AND IMPORTANT PART OF THE TALE!!" Papyrus says petulantly. Sans looks resolute as he shakes his head.

"sorry, bud, but if you don't go to bed now, ya won't be able to wake up early and make your new friend some breakfast," Sans wheedles.

Papyrus dithers for a moment, torn between breakfast for you or Harry Potter. You're flattered by his obvious selflessness, but you're kind of hoping he picks reading. It felt good to return to a piece of your childhood. But Papyrus, ever the gentleman, chooses breakfast.

"HM! I SHALL SLEEP, SANS. THANK YOU FOR YOUR KIND ADVICE!"

Sans smiles, and you can see the affection he has for his brother. Protective big brother Sans is adorable.

"Good night, Pappy," you say, and kiss his forehead. Papyrus beams at you and burrows under his covers happily. Gazing at the little cinnamon roll contentedly, it takes a second for you to realize Sans is tapping your shoulder.

He's smiling gently.

"i guess i was stupid to think you might harm 'im," Sans chuckles softly. He looks genuinely happy as he puts a hand on your shoulder, a sweet and comforting gesture. The pinpricks of light in his dark eye sockets brighten as you lean into his warmth. He smells like... you can't quite place it. He smells almost minty, with hints of fabric softener and something vaguely... acidic? 

Sans is silent for a second, gathering his thoughts. "thanks for letting us stay here," he grins. And it's not his usual mischievous, sneaky smile. It's a real, happy smile. "i'm glad that there're still humans like you out there, accepting us."

You frown, imagining the people he might've met during the monster screening process, identifying monsters eligible to find homes in Ebottville. Not all humans had been inclined to allow monsters in their communities, and it sickened you to see humans being so repulsed by creatures who only looked different from their twisted idea of 'normal'. 

You turn to Sans and press a small kiss on his cheekbone. "Good night, Sans. And thank _you_."

Sans touches his cheek for a moment, staring wide-eyed at you as you stroll casually back to your room, cool as a cucumber. 

Sans isn't done yet though.

"your snort was something i'm never gonna forget."

_Damn it, Sans!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck you Sans.
> 
> also, i really need more puns in this story. leave some in the comments if you want so i don't die. also next chapter it's probably gonna be shameless fluff and no plot. or the opposite. just EXPECT THE UNEXPECTED *flies into a rainbow and somehow dies*


	5. You Meet A Fish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> here's a hint of what's going to happen
> 
> it starts with un and rhymes with fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this may or may not be sloppily written? i kinda wrote this late at night so lemme know if there're errors thanksss
> 
> caution spoilers to undertale gaem thanks
> 
> also, the surprise is that i got a tumblr ye: http://februarytrashcan.tumblr.com/
> 
> check me out, mmkay? i do shit there
> 
> [All characters and events in this work—even those based on real people or video game characters—are entirely fictional. All lines of dialogue are thought-up and written.....poorly. The following fanfiction contains coarse language, alcohol, smoking, twerking, blazing it, farting, excessive puns and due to its content it should not be viewed by anyone.]

The first thing that registers is knocking. Lots of it. 

"HUMAN? HUMAN? ARE YOU AWAKE?"

You groan in response. Of course Papyrus would wake you up at the crack of dawn on a damn Sunday. Every bone in your body (oh, haha) aches as you stumble out of bed, pulling on your robe haphazardly.  Another busy day ahead of you, with you hopefully managing to persuade the skeletons  to move in today. Easier than doing it on a school day, you suppose.

Shuffling into the kitchen blearily, you see Papyrus busily cooking up some breakfast at the stove, whistling a merry tune as he flips pancakes with gusto. The smell from the food is actually wonderful, and the tureens of food on the table look and smell scrumptious. Shame that he wasn't as competent with spaghetti. 

"Morning, Pappy," you say sleepily, looking for mugs in your cupboards. 

"GOOOOOOOD MORNING, HUMAN!" Papyrus answers cheerily. He dishes up the pancakes and sets them on the counter. "I AM SORRY FOR USING YOUR SILVERWARE AND COOKING UTENSILS WITHOUT PERMISSION, BUT I DESPERATELY NEEDED THEM FOR YOUR GRAND THANK-YOU-FOR-COOKIES BREAKFAST." He looks genuinely ashamed of himself and hangs his head sadly. Smiling, you hug him from behind and reassure him that he did nothing wrong. "If anything, I should feel bad," you tell him. "I made a few cookies and I get a full breakfast buffet? I'm the luckiest girl in the world!"

Papyrus grins brightly at you as he cracks an egg over the pan. "THANK YOU, KIND HUMAN," he says, passing you a mug and a pitcher full of hot coffee. "ALSO, SANS BOUGHT THIS FOOD, SO THERE'S NO NEED TO WORRY ABOUT YOUR FOOD STOCKS. HE'S ACTUALLY AT WORK RIGHT NOW, YOU KNOW."

You raise an eyebrow as you pour yourself some coffee. "Really? What does he do?"

"OH, MOSTLY ODD JOBS IF HE CAN FIND THEM. SANS IS ACTUALLY RUNNING A COUPLE OF ERRANDS FOR A FRIEND OF OURS FOR A FEW HOURS. BUT HE HAS A STEADY GIG AT A BAR AS THEIR STAND-UP COMEDIAN."

"Oh," you say, stifling laughter. Of course he would be a stand-up comedian, what with his crappy humor and clever (and excruciatingly bad) puns. "Do you work as well, Papyrus?"

Papyrus pouts. "I HAVE BEEN HUNTING FOR A JOB, BUT SANS SAYS I DON'T NEED TO WORK. HE'S OBVIOUSLY LYING, BUT I DON'T HAVE IT IN ME TO CALL HIM OUT ON IT. SO INSTEAD I JUST COOK FOOD AT HOME AND BE A MOM!"

Sipping your drink, you smile at Papyrus kindly. "That's alright, Pappy. Besides, the more time you have to cook spaghetti, the better you'll get at it."

"THANKS, HUMAN! YOU KNOW," his voice drops to a conspiratorial tone, "I FOUND A VACANT POSITION AT THIS ITALIAN RESTAURANT AROUND SOUTH EBOTTVILLE. MAYBE I COULD HAND IN A RESUME?" He cracks another egg, looking at you nervously.

Imagining the looks on customers' faces as they sample Papyrus' spaghetti, you throw caution to the winds. "Well, Papyrus, you still have a long way to go from spaghetti chef to spaghetti expert," you say tentatively, not wanting to offend him.

"I KNOW! THE FLYER SAID THEY WERE JUST LOOKING FOR A SOUS CHEF. I LOOKED IT UP AND IT MEANS 'UNDER CHEF', AND I USED TO LIVE UNDERGROUND! I'M _EXACTLY_ WHAT THEY'RE LOOKING FOR."

"Yeah, well," you say weakly. _What am I supposed to say?_  "Maybe you should ask Sans before you sign up, okay? I dunno if he'll--"

Papyrus interrupts, his face desperate. He's changed from whiny to dead serious in a matter of seconds. "BUT HE'LL NEVER LET ME GET A JOB, AND I SO BADLY WANT TO CONTRIBUTE TO OUR INCOME AS MUCH AS HE DOES. SANS DOESN'T LET ON, BUT I KNOW THAT WE'RE NOT EXACTLY DOING TOO WELL IN TERMS OF MONEY. HUMANS REFUSE TO ACCEPT OUR GOLD, AND THE HUMAN GOVERNMENT TOOK AWAY MOST OF IT ANYWAY." Papyrus looks close to tears now. "SO I _NEED_ A JOB,  DEAR HUMAN. BUT I DO NOT KNOW HOW TO CONVINCE SANS THAT I'M NO LONGER A BABYBONES AND THAT I CAN HELP OUT TOO."

You pat his broad shoulder consolingly, sympathy in your eyes. Poor Papyrus, torn between pleasing his brother and doing the right thing. The kind skeleton looks so lost. "I'll help you find a job, Papyrus," you offer. "I have a couple of contacts, friends... maybe I could ask around?"

Papyrus sniffles and wipes his nose with a handkerchief (or rather, his nose hole thingamajigs). "THANK YOU, (y/n). I'LL WRITE UP A RESUME LATER TODAY AND SEE IF THE ITALIAN RESTAURANT WILL ACCEPT ME." He slides the eggs off the pan onto a platter and you pick it up and place it on the table, where a large assortment of foods await you.

The two of you sit down to a delicious breakfast of fried and scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes, sausages and oodles of other things. Everything tastes divine, and you wolf down your food like you haven't eaten in weeks. You're a pretty good cook yourself, but Papyrus seems light years ahead of you. You could barely imagine yourself making this on your own.

After you've stuffed yourself with as much food as your stomach can handle, you drain your cup of coffee and lean forward. Papyrus looks up at you eagerly, setting down his fork as you take a breath.

"So Papyrus," you begin, "I was thinking, and since you and Sans are here today, d'you... wanna move your stuff in now? I'm pretty busy on weekdays and all, since I've got classes to teach. Not to mention that Sans is starting his teaching post tomorrow. I know it's sooner than planned, but..."

Papyrus nods understandingly. "I SEE! WELL, YOU ARE IN LUCK, (y/n)! I AM A VERY STRONG AND CAPABLE SKELETON, THANKS TO MY TRAINING WITH UNDYNE. I CAN HELP YOU MOVE IN OUR POSSESSIONS, BUT I THINK WE COULD GET THAT DONE FASTER WITH A LITTLE EXTRA HELP."

You tilt your head. "Extra help?"

Papyrus grins. "I'VE GOT PLENTY OF THAT!"

\---

Soon you and Papyrus are strolling down the streets of Ebottville on the way to "a friend's". The lanky skeleton insists that he knows someone that can help out with the move. "SHE'S VERY STRONG," Papyrus says excitedly. "I'M SURE THAT WITH HER HELP, WE'LL BE ABLE TO MOVE OUR STUFF IN WITHIN HOURS!" Normally, you would've driven there, but Papyrus had forgotten the address, claiming he knew the location but not the 'COMPLICATED MUMBO JUMBO THAT HUMANS USE TO IDENTIFY PLACES'.

Your face glows with the crisp autumn air. It's October, almost Halloween, and it's getting frosty in Ebottville. Watching your steamy breaths, you almost smile. Ebottville has some nice weather; cool autumns, cold but fluffy, snowy winters, fresh springs and warm summers. The autumns are your favorites: the bright oranges and yellows and reds of the trees are so impossibly beautiful. You can almost hear Nana saying, "Look at those pretty leaves, darling girl. Bring one home to frame it." Your face softens just thinking about her.

Papyrus holds your hand tightly, like a child would, and the gesture is endearing. He's looking around eagerly, staring at the shops, the cars, and most of all, the people. You're a little concerned about his blatant staring. Most people simply overlook this, but you catch a few people looking at the skeleton strangely, and one lady actually scoffs in disgust as she struts by. Your eyes narrow at her, but you can't do anything else. Thankfully, Papyrus is busy ogling at a display of cooking supplies in a store, wide-eyed with wonder. He drags you over to the shop and points out an expensive-looking casserole dish set. It's bright orange and it screams Papyrus. You'd buy it for him, but money was tight, and you didn't have the heart to demand rent money from the skelebros. 

Sighing, you tug on his hand and Papyrus follows obediently, like a puppy. "HUMAN, CAN WE GO OUT FOR LUNCH WITH MY FRIEND FIRST? I'D VERY MUCH LOVE FOR YOU TO BECOME ACQUAINTED WITH HER," Papyrus asks hopefully. 

You smile at Papyrus gently. "Sure, Pappy. I know a good place where the three of us can eat. What's your friend's name?"

"HER NAME IS UNDYNE, AND SHE IS THE COOLEST, STRONGEST PERSON I KNOW," Papyrus says proudly. He holds himself a little higher as he adds, "SHE WAS THE ONE WHO TRAINED ME TO JOIN THE ROYAL GUARD!" Papyrus rolls the 'r' in 'royal' dramatically.

You suddenly picture a ripped, angry lady-version of the Hulk and wince.

"AH, THERE IT IS! THE HOUSE OVER THERE!"

Your eyes follow to where Papyrus' bright red glove is pointing, and you spot it. It's a small, shabby, cheap-looking house with a patch of stubbly brown grass and a dusty window with shriveled pot plants. Pretty much identical to the other equally small, shabby, cheap-looking houses down the street. The only distinctive thing about it is the curtains, which are patterned with bright little goldfish. Weird, but cool.

"IT'S NOT MUCH, I KNOW," says Papyrus. "BUT UNDYNE NEEDED A HOME FAST, SINCE SHE'S ASGORE'S OFFICIAL BODYGUARD AND SHE HAS TO ESCORT HIM TO MEETINGS AND STUFF. LUCKILY, SHE'S SENT G.D AND L.D IN HER PLACE SO SHE CAN HANG OUT WITH US!"

He nearly drags you to the cracked, worn front door and slams his fist on the doorbell so hard that the button falls off. Surprisingly, the chime still goes off, though perhaps twice as loud as it should've been. 

"Be there innaminit," someone calls.

"UNDYNE, IT'S ME," Papyrus yells through the keyhole.

At this, the door's wrenched open with a bang and you're greeted by a tall, lean and well-muscled... fish-like monster. Her flaming red hair tumbles out of a messy ponytail in wild tendrils and her tight black tank top is covered by an bright blue apron that's just slightly lighter than her striking skin tone. Her face pulls back in a menacing smile, with huge sharp teeth gleaming inside of her wide mouth. A single yellow eye looks at you suspiciously; the other one is obscured by a black eyepatch. She folds her arms across her muscular chest. Not too far from an angry female Hulk.

"Well, well, well, lookie here," she says slowly. Her voice is rough and raspy, like she'd smoked a fair few cigs in her life. "A human?"

You fidget nervously under her piercing gaze, but Papyrus swiftly steps in. "SHE IS A FRIEND, UNDYNE. SHE'S BEEN SO EXCITED TO MEET YOU AFTER ALL THE THINGS I TOLD HER ABOUT YOU."

Undyne frowns. " _Things_?"

"NICE THINGS, OF COURSE. THE HUMAN HAS MADE SOMETHING FOR YOU, TOO!" He produces a small dog bone and hands it to her. "SHE KNOWS HOW MUCH YOU LIKE THESE!"

Undyne looks at you for a moment, expression unreadable. "Fine. C'mon in," she says shortly.

You step inside, Papyrus on your heels and look around. Undyne has a pretty cute place. The house is basically one big room, with a single door in a corner. The walls are patterned with little pink fish and a soft blue background, and the floor is tiled soft blue and yellow. A grand piano sits on a striped purple rug with stray sheet music littered around it. The table is a little rundown, but the neat little fish-embroidered tea doily makes it look homier. A fridge and kitchen counter reside in the back. It's bright, tidy and cute, almost like the houses that anime characters live in. (KAWAII!) The only thing that looks out of place is a crazy-ass sword propped up against the wall.

Undyne looks at the dog bone and a slight smile crosses her face for a moment. "I'll just put this with rest o'em," she mutters. She opens a drawer filled with dozens of other bones (?) and drops the new one in with a thunk.

"SO UNDYNE," says Papyrus crisply, "THE HUMAN-- OR (y/n), AS SHE IS ALSO KNOWN, HAS BEEN ACHING TO MEET YOU. SHE IS AWED BY YOUR STRENGTH, WIT AND WISDOM. I HAVE SIMPLY BROUGHT HER HERE TO, AH, MAKE FRIENDS WITH YOU. IF THAT'S ALRIGHT."

"Oh?"

"I KNOW YOU WANT TO BE HER BOSOM FRIEND!!" Papyrus says, giving her a nudge.

Undyne glances at you, a strange expression on her face. Then her eyes move to your chest (uh, what?) and she softens a little, though still a little annoyed. "Sure. You gonna stick 'round for your lesson, Pap'rus?"

 _Lesson?_ "UMMM... UNFORTUNATELY, I JUST REMEMBERED THAT SANS IS COMING HOME RIGHT NOW FROM HIS JOB. I'LL BE RIGHT BACK!" He gives you a meaningful look, like,  _I'm giving you an opportunity and you better not screw up_. With that, Papyrus leaps through the fish curtains, and judging from the tinkling of broken glass, he's broken clean through the window too. Your jaw drops.

"Huh," Undyne grunts. "At least this time, he nailed the landing."

You stand there awkwardly. 

"Oh. Have a seat," Undyne says stiffly. She sits on one of the chairs surrounding the table, and you follow suit, sweating a little.

"So, you're the human Paps mentioned, eh?" Undyne says skeptically. She looks at you like rotting roadkill on the street. Disgusted. Aloof. 

"That's me," you say, trying to sound brave but failing spectacularly.

"He's told me a lot 'boutcha," she continues, still staring at you warily. Her eyebrows pull together.

"G-good things, I hope," you smile weakly. Yep, you are botching this up.

"Yeah."

"R-really now?"

"Uh-huh."

"Oh. Okay! Yeah. That's... good. Good," you mumble, flushing in embarrassment. Your social skills are definitely in excellent form today, huh?

Undyne blinks for a moment, her eyes bulging slightly.

"Uh," she says flatly, as if remembering to be grumpy. "You want a drink, or...?"

"Yeah, that'd be nice," you answer, wiping your sweaty palms on your pants as discreetly as possible (gross!).

Undyne opens the fridge and pulls out an assortment of beverages, which she dumps messily onto the table in front of you. "Pick one," she says in a would-be mean tone that only comes off as resigned. 

Well, fuck.

Eyeing the selection of of drinks, you see a sparkly can of soda, a box of tea and hot chocolate, which all look fine to you. "I'm okay with whatever," you shrug. Undyne looks at you threateningly as her hand twitches. "Do I need t' reiterate myself?" Undyne demands angrily. 

"L-like I said, anything's good--"

"Pick. One." Undyne touches the sword.

"Hey, I-I'm not looking for trou--"

"PICK ONE!!!!!!!!!!!"

"UH? YOU KNOW WHAT? TEA SOUNDS AMAZING? YOU WANT SOME? I WANT SOME? YEAH? AWESOME?" You gulp audibly.

Undyne looks satisfied with that and sets about making tea, though with a little more force than normal (kettles shouldn't be melting while boiling water, right?). "This is called Golden Flower Tea. S' actually Asgore's fav'rite drink," she mutters, avoiding your gaze.

"Cool?"

Undyne gives you a look, which you translate to _Please stop trying to piss me off or I will drink your brains like Dairy Queen._

"Okay?" you say, lost. "So, um, w-what're your hobb--"

"NGAHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Are you okay?"

"OH MY GOD CAN YOU NOT BE SO AWKWARD PLEASE AND THANK YOU????" Undyne screeches forcefully, like she's spitting out something disgusting. She winces a little as she turns and looks at you in exasperation. "You're a huge nerd!! Stop before my brain explodes!! Mother of fuck!!"

Blink.

"Uh--"

"STOP! STOP THIS NONSENSE! YOU ARE GOING TO STOP BEING A HUGE NERD AND C'MERE AND COOK WITH ME! I'M GONNA STAMP THIS NONSENSE OUT OF YOU! LITERALLY!"

"What the actual f--"

"STOP! STOP! GOD, STOP!"

Undyne grabs you, slings you over her shoulder almost begrudgingly and lugs you over to the kitchen, where she dumps you onto the counter unceremoniously. 

Help.

The fish lady grabs a spatula, slaps you with it, and screams, "OKAY! IF YOU TAKE A COOKING LESSON WITH ME, I THINK WE CAN GET THIS NERDINESS OUT OF YOU!!"

"Do I h-have to--"

"SHUDDUP!"

"Can't I just--"

"YOU GOTTA!! OR PAPYRUS'LL NEVER FORGIVE ME, A'RIGHT???"

Undyne blinks and puts a hand on her mouth.

"Um. What I meant to say was--"

You interrupt her, incredulity flooding through you. "Oh man. Did Papyrus _force_ you to do this?"

Undyne looks away, flushing. "Well, I mean--"

"You don't really wanna be my bosom friend or make friendship cookies or actually stamp the nerdiness out of me?"

"I mean, I don't even know what a bosom _is,_ but yeah, he wheedled me into it. I'm not interested in bein' your friend. He just likes it when I make friends, and I don' wanna say no and disappoint him." Undyne says grudgingly.

"Really?" You chuckle. "Guess you're not too social, huh?"

"Somethin' like that," she replies sullenly. "But I like my friends a lot!!" Undyne adds, suddenly defensive. "That's why I'm doing this for Papyrus. Trust me, I don't like looking at your nerdy face when I don't have to."

You sigh in relief, and Undyne smiles a little (read: bares fangs at you).

"Listen," you say cautiously. "We can make a deal. Let's just both walk out of this, and if we can fool him, we can make Papyrus think we really are joined at the hip. This way, you won't be pissed at my nerdiness and I won't have to be slapped with another spatula. And we don't have to keep faking at this whole 'make friends' deal. Sound good?"

She snarls at you. "You askin' me to betray Papyrus? He wanted us to be friends!"

"Well, unless you've got a better idea!"

Undyne glares at you for a single, painstaking moment, debating. "Fine," she growls. "But you know that I hate you now, right?"

"I had a feeling," you say wryly.

"Good. Now can ya get out?" Undyne says impatiently. "I think I'm gettin' nerd disease because of your stupid face!"

"Wait, I need a favor!" Your eyes widen as you remember Papyrus' look. He was probably getting you to make friends with Undyne so _you_ could ask her for help with the move. It did make sense, since it was your apartment, but goddamn, Papyrus could've told you more directly...

"What?! I ain't got lotsa time, punk!" Undyne hisses.

"You're pretty strong, right?"

\---

Soon Undyne is driving you back to your place in her cute little Yaris, insisting that she "didn't wanna buy this hideously adorable piece o' junk", but "just bought it anyway". Whatever. It's small but cozy, like her house, and smells like ramen for some reason.

As you pull up to your apartment block, you and Undyne lock eyes with each other for a moment. The agreement still stands between the two of you, and you nod to her grimly. She does the same (though slightly reluctantly).

In seconds, you arrive at your apartment and you quickly let yourself and Undyne in. The air smells of pasta and something tomatoey.

"Hel--"

"HUMAN! YOU BROUGHT UNDYNE! BRILLIANT!!" Papyrus leaps out from nowhere (how the fuck?), carrying a large wooden spoon coated in red sauce and bits of spaghetti. "LET'S GET MOVING!!" He seems to have mostly recovered from his breakdown during breakfast. (Sounds catchy.)

Sans strolls in from the kitchen, smiling his usual perma-smile. "heya, (y/n). hey undyne."

Undyne stiffens as she sees Sans. "Hi, Sans," she answers tightly, with the air of uttering something unpleasant. Sans' eye twitches in response. Glancing at the two of them suspiciously, you decide to gloss over the sticky moment and turn to Paps. "Yeah, you all set, Pappy?"

"YEP!" Papyrus beams. "I PACKED MY THINGS AND SANS HAS DUMPED HIS THINGS INTO A," he pauses for a moment to collect himself, "WALMART BAG."

You chance a look at Sans, who keeps a straight face as you gape at him with a mixture of surprise and _I am so done with you right now._  Papyrus' face twists in disgust as he glances at the rumpled grey bag on the table sitting next to his neatly-packed suitcase that was plastered with random knicknacks (was that a Seventeen Project promotional sticker?).

"Anyway," you announce, "Let's get started, shall we?"

\---

It takes hours to move Sans and Papyrus' stuff, despite the fact that the taller skelly insisted that he'd packed "lightly". Luckily, besides some extra basketball shorts and hoodies, Sans didn't bring a whole lot, having only a couple of joke books, several bottles of ketchup and a very old, scratched laptop. Papyrus, on the other hand, brought piles and piles of clothes (mainly handmade woollen sweaters and beanies), an entire cooking set made from a mysterious-looking, glow-in-the-dark blue stone, and box upon box of puzzle and brain games. Chess, checkers, Scrabble, jigsaw puzzles and plenty more had to be put under your bed, where there was already too much junk to clean properly. They'd also brought a couple pieces of furniture; an entire mattress to replace the lumpy cot for Papyrus, a shelf filled with books (mostly science and kids' books) and a metal safe, tightly locked. You didn't dare ask what was inside, and you had an inkling that they weren't going to tell you anyway.

You weren't quite sure how to manage moving in all of Papyrus' and Sans' possessions without pulling a muscle, but thankfully, Undyne is as strong as Papyrus had said, and had lifted much of the skelebros' stuff easily, often carrying heaps of objects at a time, and single-handedly carrying the bookshelf to a cramped spot in the corner of your living room. Surprisingly, Undyne kept it civil in front of Papyrus and held up her end of the bargain, trying to smile at you and did a fair job of acting like your friend, though once or twice you caught her glaring daggers at you. Somehow, everything seems to fit perfectly, almost like magic. Sans just stands around and laughs at your epic fails with carrying stacks of Pappy's games and clothes, which was so annoying that you ended up throwing a knitted hat at him in retaliation. Papyrus helps where he can, but ends up making lunch for you and your monster friends/acquaintances (you're still confused about that) instead, the diner trip forgotten. After a marathon of moving, Papyrus' ham and cheese sandwiches taste awesome. Undyne shamelessly wolfs down eight, while Sans merely picks at his food idly. You eat almost as ravenously as Undyne, devouring three before leaning back on a moving box happily. The food is making you pretty sleepy. and the others look beat as well.

"So whaddaya wanna do now?" Undyne asks, yawning.

Sans looks at you.

You look at Papyrus.

Papyrus looks at Undyne.

All four of you answer in unison.

"Nap."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY I HAD TO HAVE UNDYNE IN HERE AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE
> 
> and seriously, the lack of puns in this story is killing me.
> 
> again, thank you so much for the kudos, positive comments and just general support so far! five chapters in and already over a hundred kudos? honestly, you guys are amazing. i literally squeal every time i see an email telling me i have kudos, or that someone commented. i guess this tumblr is a present for you guys. 
> 
> thanks my beautiful cabbages~


	6. You Exchange Some Humerus Puns With Sans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's tiem to go to werk wid our boyo sansy sans teach dat physics boiii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY YOUR CABBAGE QUEEN WAS LATE TO UPDATE WITH A CRATE FULL OF GREAT FATE
> 
> also i'm not gonna specify any physics-y terms in here just cause i'm dumb. haha
> 
> [All characters and events in this work—even those based on real people or video game characters—are entirely fictional. All lines of dialogue are thought-up and written.....poorly. The following fanfiction contains coarse language, alcohol, smoking, twerking, blazing it, farting, excessive puns and due to its content it should not be viewed by anyone.]

Having two skeletons around your place wasn't as daunting as it seemed, you quickly realized. A few days of nervous glances and silence, Sans and Papyrus settled comfortably into your home as if they had lived there for years. Of course, it was still jarring when Papyrus jumped out of nowhere and hugged you from behind as you left for work, and having to clean up after Sans' messes was no small task, but you put up with it without complaint because you knew if they were in your shoes, they'd do the same.

Though they weren't the easiest bunch to manage, the brothers brought along some of their own perks. Papyrus often left you bag lunches on the table in the mornings that were tastier than any sandwich you could whip up, and went grocery-shopping for you while you were gone. He even cleaned daily, dusting counters and sweeping floors, even tackling Sans' mess of a cot on the couch. One day you came home to find him meticulously dusting every rung on the musty, drab curtains that covered the single window in your apartment, and another time you found him organizing your messy bedroom. Papyrus turned out to be a handy little thing around the house. But honestly... 

You couldn't say the same for his brother.

Sans was a package of chaos wrapped in a blue hoodie.

You didn't _dislike_ him or anything. In fact, you and Sans liked to talk for hours after Papyrus had gone to sleep, sometimes chatting well into the morning about anything and everything. But the guy was just impossible to live with. He left clothes strewn on the floor, he was constantly making terrible jokes, he literally sucked the ketchup out of the bottle, he rarely got up to help with anything... Sans was a tricky one. He also had a bad habit of sneaking food from the fridge when he thought you were sleeping, and _loved_ played petty pranks on you. Turned out that Sans wasn't above slapstick humor, which you ended up learning the hard way when you slipped on a puddle of oil that he'd poured on the floor and nearly broke your wrist. And when Papyrus went out to shop or meet a friend, he'd wreck the place. You came home to black smoke billowing from some sort of homemade contraption and a peacefully snoozing Sans more than once, and whenever you demanded what was he doing, he never divulged a thing, which got increasingly annoying.

Undyne, your new 'ally', grudgingly accepted your dinner invitations from time to time, and though she wasn't quite friendly with you, she still treated you with some respect and gradually let down her guard a little. She told you a bit about herself, and once mentioned a friend named Alphys that she lived with as roomies. Undyne was very adamant that they weren't involved in anything, but every time you brought Alphys up, she turned beet red and hastily changed the subject. It was kind of cute to see Undyne have a soft spot for someone, but teasing her was out of the question. Undyne had some big-ass biceps, and you weren't about to have them powering a punch in your face. Nonetheless, you and Undyne shared a somewhat friendly but mostly cautious friendship, though she insisted that it was still a secret alliance against Papyrus.

And so, you learned to love your new friends. They weren't perfect, or 'normal', but you wouldn't have it any other way. 

Unfortunately, the rest of the world didn't agree with you.

\---

"Sans."

He smiles in his sleep.

" _Sans._ "

He continues to doze happily.

"Sans!"

No response.

"SANS, WAKE UP!!" You hope Papyrus doesn't wake up from the ruckus you're making.

He shifts for a second... and then keeps on snoring softly.

Sighing, you trot to the kitchen. There was only one solution to this. Grabbing a bottle of ketchup, you scurry back to the couch and open the lid and hold it under his nostrils carefully.

It takes a second for it to register, but as soon as it does, Sans jerks awake and looks around wildly. "ketchup? where?"

You wave the bottle at him. "Morning, sleepyhead," you say lightly. "I'd leave you to your peaceful sleep, but it doesn't do to be late for your first day at work."

"mmmh... first day of work?"

"You betcha, and it's not going to wait for you. C'mon, get up." You drag him to the bathroom, give him a toothbrush and order him to clean up. "You need to make a good impression," you insist. Sans doesn't protest, but looks at the toothbrush balefully before he puts on a glop of toothpaste. 

Scrambling back to your room, you riffle through drawers, trying to look for Sans' clothes, hoping for something suitable. A hoodie would definitely be frowned upon in a school, and you weren't about to let him come to work in those clothes. Unfortunately for you, he didn't have a lot in the way of formal, but you make do with a blue cardigan that looked like it had been knitted by Papyrus and a pair of plain black slacks. You also manage to dig up an outgrown dress shirt of Papyrus' that looked like it might fit Sans. As for shoes, you find some beaten-up red sneakers. It wasn't the best, but it was much more presentable than a hoodie and basketball shorts.

Sans ambles into the room, looking clean and fresh. "what's all this?" He looks at the cardigan and shakes his head. "this is wha'm gonna wear? it looks dorky as all hell."

Putting back the shirts and pants you misplaced in your search, you snort. "Right now, this 'dorky' outfit may be the difference between losing and keeping this job, Sans. Teaching deserves respect." You straighten up as you say this, unable to fight off your proud smile. 

"yadda, yadda, just gimme the damn clothes."

You ball up his clothes and toss them at him with a little more force than intended, and they bonk him on the face with an audible _whump_. He staggers a little and manages to scoop them up from the floor clumsily while cursing under his breath. Frustrated Sans is hilarious, and you double up in silent giggles as he tries to smooth the wrinkles out of his outfit. "hey," he whines. "ya ruined my clothes, you jerk."

Turning on your heel smugly, you're about to grab your own stuff and change in the bathroom when something catches your ankle and you trip. It's not a little tumble either. You fall comically to the ground and literally faceplant onto the carpeted floor like a cartoon character, hard. The heaps of clothes cushion your limbs, but the damage was done, and you moan into the clothes covering your face unhappily. You're fully aware that Sans is sniggering at you annoyingly, and it's not helping your mood.

You manage to drag yourself out of the mess and sit up, swearing and blushing in embarrassment. Man, falling in front of people sucked, and it sucked even more when people swarmed around you and asked if you were okay. Talk about redundant questions. It was like asking someone if they had a bathroom in their house. Where did they piss, the fucking floor? 

The point was, you hated people asking if you were alright.

Like how Sans is doing now.

"gee, sorry about that," he says innocently as he pulls you up. He sounds more sincere when he asks, "you ok?"

"My pride isn't," you mutter, flushing deeply. _Please stop._

"you sure?"

"Yeah," you say, a little sharply. Sans recoils, but you quickly add, "I'm just kinda clumsy, that's all."

"wait, that wasn't you," Sans says, laughing a little. " _i_ tripped you on purpose. for throwing those clothes at me."

"Wha-- how...?" And then you see the little strand of blue shimmering magic wrapped around your ankle, trailing from... Sans's finger. Sans tried not to use magic too much in front of you, but you had learned to get used to his magical power... thingies. It was still sort of weird, but hey, you'd seen worse.

"Sans..." you say reproachfully. "That's low."

"bet you were b _low_ n away by that magic trick, though."

You debate between smacking his head repeatedly with a crowbar and flushing him down a toilet for a moment, but a more pressing question rises to your lips. "How did you do that?"

"magic," says Sans nonchalantly.

"No, seriously, how? Where does it come from? Do you--"

Sans clears his throat. Oops. "that's a story for another time, kid," he says, his expression closed.

"Oh," you mutter. _Nice,_ you think to yourself. _Very nice._

"anyway, d'you mind gettin' out? i gotta change."

Wondering why a skeleton would need privacy to change (he literally had no flesh on his bones), you gratefully oblige. After touching the subject of magic with Sans, the conversation had gotten awkward, and it was a relief to skitter out and get your own things ready.

Several minutes later, you're driving to school with Sans in shotgun for the first time. It felt kind of weird, and you couldn't deny that you were a bit nervous about having a skeleton with you in public for the second time ever. At least Papyrus' big hug before you left gave you some strength.

Sans is mostly quiet as you trundle along in the rush-hour traffic, silently observing his surroundings. He was nothing like Papyrus, with his childlike enthusiasm and boisterous ways. You could see it in his personality, his way of speaking. Sans was almost the polar opposite of Papyrus; where Papyrus was loud, Sans was quiet, where Sans was wary, Papyrus was carefree. The two were so different, and yet they got along so well.

As you wait for the red light to turn green, Sans speaks up.

"so got any tips for me, miss teacher lady?" He sounds relaxed and calm, his tone even and smooth. Not at all like his usual lazy, drawling chatter. _So this is what nervous Sans looks like._

"Oh, well," you say, flustered. It's like he thinks you've got years of experience, which you don't. In fact, you still learned new tips and tricks and lessons along the way, and you knew that there was still tons more to be learned. Despite your self-doubt, you give him your best advice. "Just try to keep calm, don't try to impress students, make sure to lay down the rules hard so you don't get taken advantage of, get to know your kids first and umm... just be careful and think before you do anything rash." You know you're babbling, but you really, really wanted Sans to do well in teaching, otherwise it'd be all your fault. And you would never be able to stand the guilt.

"why would kids try to take advantage of me?" Sans sounds genuinely confused. 

"Well, you're, um..." Shit, shit, shit. "They're just kids, and... they... you're..." You really didn't want to offend Sans, but he couldn't just waltz in without knowing that he would be facing dislike, disgust, even hatred, from colleagues and students, just for being something-- no, some _one_ different from them. It was unfair, but it was true, and you couldn't pretend that it wasn't. Humans hated monsters. It was as simple as that. "You're a m-m-m..."

"monster," he supplies tonelessly. What hurts is that he doesn't even look angry or frustrated. He just looks dejected.

You can't bring yourself to say anymore, so the rest of the drive is silent. When you pull up to a nice, empty parking spot, you look him in the eye and force the words out. He needed to know, you needed to warn him, no matter how much you hated doing it, you start talking, low and fast. 

"You can't let them catch you doing your job wrong, you hear me? Don't ever give them a reason to doubt your competence, or they will drag you out of there in a heartbeat. It's not fair, I know, you're a monster and they're humans, but you need to do this. This school isn't a bad one, but the teachers are not gonna like you, a monster, replacing an old, beloved  _human_ colleague. They will jump at every little thing you do that doesn't completely adhere to the rules. So never _ever_ slip up, Sans. I know it's a lot to ask, but one mistake, one miss, and no matter who intervenes, they _will_ get you out of your job, because of your kind. I know you're tight on money right now. You need this job. So you have do this job right. For Papyrus, and... me, too."

It hurts to tell him the truth, but he doesn't waver, doesn't look frightened once. As the words hit him, his eyes glow faintly with something you hadn't seen before. Something new, something... determined. Sans turns to you as you look at him anxiously. On the contrary, instead of hurting him, the words seem to bolster him as he meets your gaze.

"you'll never need doubt me, kiddo," he says firmly. 

\---

You're nervous and jittery throughout your morning classes, constantly flicking your eyes toward the door every now and then and glancing at your watch repeatedly. If only lunch could come faster, just a little faster. Your mind spins in worry about Sans as the minutes tick by. Were the students okay? Did they like him? Was he teaching well? Did his lesson plan go smoothly? You barely make it through the morning, but your students don't seem to notice your nervousness.

As soon as the bell rings for lunch period, you take off to the physics room at a brisk pace, carrying your lunch and work folder under your arm. Teachers greet you and smile as you pass them, but you ignore them. You pick up speed, practically running when you reach the door to Sans' new classroom. Bursting in, you spot Sans at his desk at the front of the room. Oh, he looks every bit like a teacher in that moment, leaning over some papers, eyebrow-bone-line-thingies furrowed with concentration. His cardigan is off and his shirt is rumpled, but he looks perfect. His desk is already cluttered with papers, textbooks and various notebooks filled with handwritten notes, which all look well-worn but in mostly good condition, which was surprising for Sans, who could barely keep a darned couch tidy.

"Sans?" Your voice is slightly breathless from your jog/run/walk and you're a little embarrassed about that, so you take a deep breath to compose yourself.

"yeah?" Sans sounds distracted as he continues to study his papers.

"Sans," you repeat louder.

He gives a little start when he realizes it's you. "oh, hey, (y/n)," he says absently, returning to his work. Walking over, you peer over his shoulder at his work. It's a bunch of science gibberish that thanks to your outstanding marks in school, you actually comprehend. You can tell that he's really passionate about this, not just this piece of lengthy science gibberish, but the whole wide world of physics in general. His eyes are fired up and completely focused on the task at hand, and it's so weird, so odd to see him so attentive to something other than his brother or you.

"So?" You can't keep the excitement and anxiousness out of your voice as you blurt out, "How'd it go?"

Sans looks up and beams at you, happiness on his face. You're seeing all sorts of emotions on him today. "it was unbelievable. they laughed at every single pun i made! and they didn't say anything about me being a monster. (y/n), you shoulda seen it. i think the kids actually  _like_ me."

You roll your eyes. "That's all very nice and sappy, but what about the lesson?"

"eh, i just gave 'em an introduction to me, my rules, and then after some diggin' around, i found where they left off and just kicked it off from there. i've already got some more ideas to add to their curriculum, jus' to enhance their learning."

"That's wonderful, Sans," you say, overjoyed at this news. You throw your arms around him and hug him tight. "That's absolutely wonderful!"

Sans chuckles and pats your back awkwardly. "tha's nice, but uh, can you hold back the tears and emotions later? i see you got food over there..." He rubs his bony hands together eagerly, and you sigh and pull out your lunches. Papyrus made you both an extra-special lunch consisting of corn bread, chicken soup in little thermoses and chocolate pudding, all scrumptious-looking and warm. Too hungry to keep up the convo, you and Sans munch on your food like you haven't eaten in months. It's still fascinating to see him process food, what with him being a skeleton and all. He chews with his big, straight teeth, gulps, and then the food is quickly processed into a glowing blue substance, which gradually 'fades' away into thin air, which was what it looked like when Sans absorbed the magical stuff into his body. You'd seen this process only once, when Sans was ill and you'd had to force-feed him and he'd puked on you. Thank God for evaporating magic.

"Anyway," you say between bites, "What do you think of the job so far, Mr Sans?"

Sans shrugs noncommittally as he chugs a bottle of ketchup (seriously, you couldn't get over how gross that was). "meh. it's a lot of work for me, but i can handle it. this stuff is easy like you wouldn't _believe._ i was disproving theories when i was their age."

"Well, many things are a lot of work for you, Sans. Like, oh, I don't know, taking the fucking trash out once in awhile?" You give him a look as you scrape the last few bits of noodle from the thermos.

"hey, hey, i told ya, i got quite a few jobs to do."

"Like what?"

"well, i got a job as their standup comedian at this bar. grillby's. it's a monster-run establishment. and i work part-time as a restaurant as a dishwasher. and i work as a clerk at a monster clothing shop. and i--"

You hold your hands up in surrender, laughing as you say, "Fine, fine, I get it now." Guess Papyrus wasn't kidding when he said that Sans had a lot of jobs. Forget 'a lot', this was just impossible. Did he ever sleep?

"Again, are you sure you can handle this job?" You lock eyes with him, worried for Sans' wellbeing. Money was important, sure, but what would an ill and overworked breadwinner be of use to anyone? "You can always just tell Mr Underwood that it's too much, I'm sure he'll understand. All these jobs are going to take their toll on you eventually."

Sans shrugs. "i'm pretty decent at multitasking. i think i'll manage." He's trying to sound unworried, but you sense the unease and exhaustion underneath it. Jeez, if anyone needed a vacation, it was the skeleton in front of you.

He grins at you widely, trying to soothe your worry. "hey, don't worry about me. i got a skele _ton_ of ideas to run past you so i can be a better teacher," Sans says with a completely straight face. You glare at him and barrage his arm with slaps. Even at work, you're not safe from the terror of Sans' puns.

"You have an awful _tendon_ cy to make bad jokes," you answer smoothly. _Oh, it's on, Bone Boy. It's on._

"bad jokes? non _sans._ "

You hesitate for a moment, lost for puns. "Um... don't be so _marrow_ -minded, take some feedback and improve your puns," you stammer, and thankfully Sans snickers.

"heh, that's a real _rib tickler_ ," he drawls, smiling that shit-eating grin of his that triggers your competitive impulses. Unfortunately, a glance at your watch tells you that you have to get back to class in a few minutes, which wipes the smile off your face. "huh?" Sans says, his voice mocking. "finally run out of puns, kid?"

"Oh, no, not that," you say, "But if I did go all out on you, you'd be worn down _to the bone_ , buddy. Nah, I just gotta go back to class, and you should be prepping too, you know. Kids come in quick, and we've wasted our precious lunchtime by exchanging cringey jokes."

"cringey? come on, you liked 'em."

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I've never really laughed at your jokes, Sans," you say, walking to the door.

"then i guess that's a new goal for me, huh?"

You shake your head as you walk out, making a promise to yourself in your head, that you'll never, _ever_ laugh at his puns. You swear your life on that.

\---

Sans reclines in his comfy chair behind his big fancy teacher desk. It's been hours since the kids went home, and after an hour of checking some exercises and planning some lessons, he decides to let his mind wander. He liked to do this; it was a good way to sort out his cluttered head, calm him.

It feels surreal to have this job, he thinks. He'd been shunned by most humans in his time on the Surface, and judging by the looks some teachers had been giving him, he still was sometimes. But then there was you, who never gave him that disgusted, distrustful gaze, who looked at him instead with compassion and kindness and so many other things he didn't deserve. How could you be so kind to him, when there was a world of things you didn't know? Humans were so fragile, so breakable. You put your trust into things that could very well destroy you, like those godawful cars. Sans hated those, and he hated the fact that he had to go to work with you in that every day from then on. Cars weren't  _new_ to him, of course. Papyrus was an avid fan of them, even back in the Underground. Neither of them wanted to actually ride one of those, but now he was forced to board vehicles on a daily basis, which he disliked immensely. He'd never admit it to you, but he was a little bit, just a _little_ bit afraid of them.

Sans sighs and looks out the window, marveling the pink and yellow streaks in the sky as the sun fell. He still was so awestruck by the sun, so fascinated by its patterns, its light, its life-giving. Humans took all of this for granted, and sometimes he would wonder why your kind would merely wave away this miracle in the sky. Maybe after a few billion years of life on Earth, you all got tired of seeing the same orangey-yellow ball rise up and fall down in a perfect arc day after day. But right now, Sans feels like he'll never grow tired of the sun. He supposes a life spent underground makes him appreciate it a bit more.

A thought strikes him. After time spent with him, would you get over the novelty of him and Papyrus? Were you just satisfying a curiosity about monsters? He hated to think that eventually, after the monster thing died down, you'd kick them out, or make up a bullshit excuse to make them leave. And then Sans would have to get another job, and he'd have no time for his younger brother, and Papyrus would have to get a job if it came to it. He shudders at the very thought. Papyrus was too young, too young to endure so much. Sans would rather die than burden his brother with the weight of the cold, cruel and unforgiving world on his shoulders. He feared that it would crush the innocence out of him like a bug, and Papyrus would no longer be the same. And despite the fact that you were a new friend, he already treasured you, perhaps in a more than friendly way (oh, he was _not_ ready to go into that yet). And when Papyrus lost his brightness, his zeal, Sans would lose hope. And when you stopped giving him comfort and care, he would lose hope too. Which would be disastrous.

Right now, hope was the only thing tethering him to life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> visit the cabbage farm: http://februarytrashcan.tumblr.com/
> 
> so sorry i'm late, i really am. i was dumb and i wasted my time watching SEVENTEEN videos and crying over Dokyeom and Wonwoo's adorableness and crying at The8's aegyo and crying at Hoshi's 10:10. if you're lost right now, that's ok. maybe someday i'll explain k-pop. but for now, thenks 4 comminting n kudos it meens a lut 2 me thenks pls visit cabbage farm nothing happens there unless you ask me shit because that's all it's gonna be for lolz
> 
> also huehue sans is getting hot n ready
> 
> p.s: "nice very nice" someone please get that reference  
> p.p.s: the bathroom analogy, someone get that vine pls


	7. You Have a Drunk and Shitty Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> title sums it up pretty well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm late. i'm sorry. i'm a fail.
> 
> cabbage farm: http://februarytrashcan.tumblr.com/
> 
> also this chapter sux a bit but IT'S OK WE GOT PLOT AND WE NEED DAT

Flinging your bag on the table, you stagger past a humming Papyrus and whistling Sans, who just came in right after you, in a cloud of pent-up anger and frustration and hurt and drink, ignoring his confused look and slamming the door as you stomp into your room. You hadn't even waited for Sans in the parking lot, driving home by yourself instead and leaving poor Sans to take the bus. As soon as you're alone, you sigh miserably into your pillow, too tired to cry, but too upset to face the rest of the world.

Unfortunately, 'the rest of the world' was knocking on your door as you moped.

"HUMAN? ARE YOU ALRIGHT?" Papyrus shouts from the other side. "HELLO?"

"Could you go away, please?" Your slurred voice is muffled by the pillows.

"HUMAN, PLEASE?"

"Go away."

...

Footsteps. He's finally gone. 

"hello?" 

Oh, shit. Spoke too soon. You say nothing and wait for him to get the hint.

Instead, the door opens (again, what is it with skeletons and locked doors?) and Sans walks in as if he hadn't worked any crazy magic crap and plunks himself down nonchalantly on the edge of your bed.

"heya," he says eventually. You grunt in response.

Silence.

...

...

You wait for him to do something, do anything. But he doesn't. He sits and stares at the wall patiently.

Is he leaving, or...?

Sans simply sits there, quiet and unwavering. He doesn't even look upset about you driving home without him.

It's a little aggravating, and you wished he'd go away, but his steadfastness makes you hesitate as you open your mouth to ask him to leave. Somehow, his act of not leaving has comforted your alcohol-addled self slightly.

More silence.

He finally shifts a little, and fumbles in his pocket for something. Fishing it out, you see a little box clutched in his hand. At first, you think it's cigarettes, but it looks slightly different. Huh?

"dog residue," he says, answering your unspoken question. "better smoked." Lighting it, he shoots you a glance and mutters, "jus' don't mention it to paps, he hates these." Sans offers you one, a little roll wrapped in paper similar to cigs, but filled with brightly-colored stuff instead. You dither for a moment, unsure, but he gently nudges you and you take one.

"ah," he says, after taking a drag of his dog residue cigarette. "tha's the stuff." He exhales a puff of smoke slowly before glancing at you and saying, "aren'tcha gonna try it?"

"It sounds kinda gross," you blurt, feeling light-headed. Luckily, Sans just laughs slightly and says, "i know, but they're great for relaxin'. just try it."

You light it with shaking hands and slowly raise it to your lips. For a moment, you feel a rush of nervousness as you suck on it, but then it hits you.

Oh, God.

Oh, sweet mother of all things good.

It's like every good thing in the world just seeped into your veins as you inhale the sweet smokiness of that first drag. Your muscles relax, your eyes droop, and your mind clears almost instantly. A thick, hazy fog falls over your brain as your body absorbs the dog residue. Your anger fades until you feel content and satisfied, as if you'd just had a particularly good meal.

"Whoa," you whisper, totally blown away.

"i know," Sans answers dreamily, sucking his cig absently.

"And you guys never sold these to humans? You'd be stinking rich if you did!" You're spewing smoke as you grin drunkenly.

"meh. humans are fucked up enough as it is with meth n' heroin and that shit," he says, inhaling again.

The two of you sit back in silence, smoking dog residue for awhile until Sans finally says, "so, you wanna tell me what's gotten you so riled up?"

You blow out some smoke out of the corner of your mouth. "Guess I don't have a choice."

\---

"No, no, no," you say patiently. "Derek, the number is -65. You have to subtract -65, not 65." Pointing at the equation, you tap the digits with your finger. "See?"

The poor boy scratches down a few numbers and shows you his paper, but no dice. He just doesn't get it.

"Derek, pay attention. You're trying to subtract 41 from -65. It's simple. Seventh-grade, Derek, seventh-grade material," you say, trying to keep the edge from your voice. The frustration is getting to you.

"I'm sorry!" Derek says helplessly. "The numbers just... blur together. I can't concentrate."

"You have to," you reply shortly. "We're not ending this session till you can solve it!"

"Please, can I just go?" He sounds close to tears.

"It's so easy, Derek, how can you not solve it?" You point to the numbers again. "Here, from -65, you go back 41 times. Come on."

"I can't," Derek says sadly.

"We can go back to the number lines, if you want," you offer, your voice as helpless as Derek's.

"I have to go, Ms (y/n)," Derek says abruptly, and walks out quickly, leaving his papers on your desk and closing the door behind him.

"Derek, wait!" It's too late, but you peer around the corner with his worksheets still in hand, looking for his retreating back. The corridor is empty, except for a few chatting teachers.

Sighing, you turn away and go back into your classroom. Another botched attempt to a help a student. The familiar dregs of regret remain in your mind as you slowly walk back to your desk. You felt angry; angry at the school system, angry at Derek, and most of all, angry at yourself. You couldn't even help one kid, how could you even teach a whole class? After two years of it, you still felt so incompetent when a child slipped from your grasp. You'd seen kids buckle under the pressure of high school and turn to things you once thought unimaginable. Those were the worst for you, the ones you knew that couldn't be helped but you wanted to, oh, you wanted to pull them back on the right track so much, but you couldn't do a single thing except watch them spiral into despair.

"Ms (y/n)! Ms (y/n)!" A sharp, girlish voice calls you out of your thoughts.

"Oh, hello, Mrs Turner," you say, your voice reverting to its careful, even tone, the one that you always took with other teachers. You turn to one of the teachers in the hall, who's waving you over excitedly to a small group of female colleagues. Oh, wonderful. Staff gossip.

"Look at you!" One of the ladies, Mrs Greene, throws an arm around you, engulfing you in the stench of old-lady perfume. Yuck. "You've changed so much since you first walked in here!"

"Oh, darling, we must see you more often for our staff lunches," adds Madame Yoon. "We don't see your pretty face as much as we'd like."

The women titter and gush as they exchange the juiciest pieces of gossip, ranging from Mr Vito's new dentures ("He still looks as horsey as ever.") to Ms Lee's latest boyfriend ("He's _twenty_ years younger than that hag!"). The simpering expressions, fake laughs and condescending attitudes are wearing and much too disgusting for you to endure for a few minutes, let alone the rest of the lunch period. _This_ is why you tended to eat by yourself in your classroom instead of sitting in awkward silence as the rest gossiped to their hearts' content. You find yourself wishing for Sans' company just as they arrive at the subject of the new skeleton.

"... _such_ a gentle _man_ , he even held the door for me!" Ms Ambers was saying in her sickly sweet tone, fanning her face with her hand dramatically.

"I _know,_ " replies Mrs Turner, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "He's  _single,_  isn't he?"

"Oh, yes," Mrs Greene says, stifling laughter. "I'd _date_ him if I wasn't married!"

The ladies burst into giggles, covering their lipstick-smeared mouths with their hands and wiping away tears.

"Am I missing something?" You ask. _What's their problem?_

"Oh, _honey_ ," Madame Yoon waves an airy hand, dabbing at her eyes. "Haven't you noticed how _unattractive_ and _disgusting_ he is?"

"Lord, he's an atrocity!"

What?

"An abomination!"

No.

"What an ugly _beast_!"

Fuck.

"Why did James let him teach again?" Mrs Turner demands. "I mean, what kind of _idiot_ lets a monster teach?"

Shut up.

"Oh, now," murmurs Mrs Greene in a stage whisper. "Don't go saying that, Mildred, he'll never like you if you say that."

Unattractive?

Ms Ambers laughs. "Oh, come off it, Edith, James would have to be a complete dumbcluck to date an crotchety old lady like Millie."

Disgusting?

"Poor you, Mildred," Madame Yoon simpers, fake sympathy in her eyes. "At least maybe (y/n) could give him a go instead of you." She tilts her head, aiming the question at you.

Shoot, what to say?

"I think James should choose whichever woman he likes," you get out, discreetly wiping sweaty hands that had been clenched in fists for the last few minutes.

"Well," Mrs Turner says coldly, "He's obviously picking _you._ " Her eyes scan yours like a hawk stalking its prey.

_Shut up, you old hags!_

The ladies raise their eyebrows and stare at you, shocked.

Oops. Did you say that out loud?

"Um..." You look away from them, unsure of yourself. Just like that, the vicious hawks swoop in.

"How _dare_ you?" Madame Yoon squawks. "Don't you dare talk to us like that!"

"And I thought this generation couldn't be any worse," Ms Ambers sniffs snobbily.

"You have no right to say those things to us," snaps Mrs Greene.

"W-well, I r-really..." You gulp and wring your hands, bracing yourself. _Couldn't even keep your mouth shut, could ya?_

Mrs Turner rounds on you, glaring at you. "I saw you there, clenching those fists while we talked about your beasty friend. Think we're some joke, huh? Well, listen up. We know you're the slut keeping him at your place, and just because we've kept it quiet up until now doesn't mean we're not telling everyone. We're not the only ones who hate that revolting, evil piece of _crap_!"

Teachers glance uneasily at the heated conversation as they pass you in the hall, but no one dares to intervene. Bummer.

"And you know what? You're nothing. You're just a young kid stealing teaching positions better for honest, hardworking people. You're a money-grubbing little bitch! And don't think that everyone here likes you, oh, the perfect little angel teacher, her kids love her, she's always offering _help,_ and she's always sticking her nose in other people's beeswax and making us look bad! Plenty of us hate you, (y/n). So don't you dare swagger in and act like you own this place. Because _news flash,_ you don't!"

The bell rings, but it's just a faint throb in your ears. Everything sounds so muffled. Like you're underwater. How are you breathing?

In, out. In, out. 

Mrs Turner gives you a last dirty look before flouncing off with her little posse of gossip girls.

And all you can do is stand there.

_You did nothing._

\---

You arrange for a sub to come in for you and tell Mrs Tran that you're not feeling well enough to teach today, and hastily write down a poor excuse for a lesson plan for the substitute teacher. It's cowardly, and it's shameful, but how else can you escape?

After some driving around, you finally come across a bar. Grillby's. The name rings a bell in your head, but you're too worn-out to care. All you need right now is a drink and some sympathy. Even though your mind screams for you to stop, you stumble in.

The bar is cozy, warm and homely. Everything you miss and everything you want all smooshed into one little establishment. It's crowded with monsters, which would be weird for most, but after living with skeletons for about a week, it gets kind of normal. 

God, did you really just say that? You felt like a kid again, pretending that magic was real and all that campy bullshit. Except this time, magic was as real as the barstool you were sitting on, and monsters actually were roaming the world now.

A sudden crackling noise coming from next to you startles you out of your thoughts abruptly, and you turn around to face a wall of fire. For a second, you're confused, but then your eyes see a dress shirt and a vest and then spectacles and then whoa, holy fuck, the guy is a fire thing, whoa whoa whoa and are those hands and are those hands too and are those eyes or just the shine from the glasses and gee he has a little round thing hole that opens and closes, it's probably a mouth and how is that glass not melting in his hands and wow he's on fire or is he fire or--

"May I help you, _mademoiselle_?" Well, shit, that's a sexy voice if you've ever heard one.

"Oh, uh..." Good job, you.

"I'll move on to the next customer if this is an inconvenient time," he offers. Yep, not only does he have a sexy voice, but he's as French as... well, French people. His lilting accent, the elegant posture, he's a stereotypical casanova.

Well, it's not like you hadn't learned any French during your time in Canada.

"Oh, _non, monsieur,_ " you say as smoothly as possible. "I'm, um... a little unfamiliar with your drinks here."

"Ah, _tu parles en français aussi_?" The fire guy nods approvingly. " _Je m'appelle Grillby._ I'm Grillby, the bartender."

"Pleasure," you say, extending a hand. After a moment, Grillby stifles a laugh, and then you realize what you just did. Playing with fire was one thing, but shaking hands with it was definitely kind of a no-no. You open your mouth to apologize, but Grillby waves it away, chuckling.

"You have no idea how much I get that," he smiles, baring red-hot fangs hidden by the inferno curling from his blazing hair-thing. " _Ce n'est pas grave._ It's perfectly safe to touch me, _ma cherie_. Go on, shake it." 

You tentatively reach out and grasp his flaming hand and 

 

 

 

WOW.

 

 

 

The first thing that registers is the warmth that tickles your palm as you grip his fingers for the first time. It's on the cusp of being hot, but it's distinctly pleasant and comforting. It pulses and shifts under your grasp, just like real fire. It's so surreal but so wonderful.

It takes a few moments before you realize your rudeness.

"S-sorry about that," you stutter, flustered by your ignorance. 

"It's perfectly fine," he crackles, chuckling again. "I cannot fault you for your curiosity." You smile gratefully.

Withdrawing his hand gently, he sidles back behind the bar and reaches for a polishing rag (again, how is it not on fire?). " _Alors,_ you came for a drink, no? I know you are not quite familiar with our drinks, but I'm sure I can whip something up."

"Surprise me, then," you say, propping your chin up with a fist.

Grillby disappears behind the bar, pouring various bottles into a glass with the precision of a surgeon and dropping in bits of this and that, until he finally slides a shot of something that glows a faint purple when you touch it. Naturally, he must have put some magic in it to enhance the flavor and quality. 

"What's in here?" You swill the glass around, staring at the shimmering contents. "Looks a little different from usual drinks."

"That, I cannot say," Grillby nudges the glass towards you again. "Try it."

"Um, are you sure this isn't gonna kill me? I doubt this has been tested on humans." You fidget as you hold the cup with both hands, observing the purple glow.

Grillby polishes a dirty glass slowly, concentrating on his task. "As long as you have a SOUL, you'll be perfectly alright, _ma cherie_."  
  


Huh.

Releasing your inhibitions, you drain the shot in one, just like you used to back in the old days. The small voice in your head is shaking its finger reprovingly, but since the gossip disaster and teaching fail, you're desperate for anything, _anything_ to escape from reality.

For a moment, there's nothing but smooth alcohol and sharp tastes.

And then the rest of it hits.

A numb tingle settles across your lips as you absorb the drink slowly, sending shivers up your spine. The feeling is almost pleasant. Even while you're acclimating to that, the sharp, indescribable tastes begin to take shape in your mouth. Crisp apple. Fresh mint. A snowflake on your tongue. Sweetness. Coldness. Baking pie. Caramels. Something slightly sour. A myriad of others. The combination is strange, but somehow, it all seems to come together to give you a very pleasant experience.

"So?" Grillby inquires, who had just disappeared to serve food to some customers. "Did I do well?"

After a second of savoring the fading effects, you nod vigorously and thrust out your glass. "I'll have another."

" _Fantastique_ ," Grillby replies, and sets about mixing another shot for you.

\---

"...and long story short, I had a few drinks with Grillby, got drunk enough to break down to him about my problems and then after he comforted me, he gave me something that sobered me up enough to drive home... and yeah." You exhale the smoke of your third dog residue cigarette slowly, wishing to prolong the lightheadedness you had experienced before, but all the talking had put a damper on your spirits.

Sans hadn't said a thing during your epic tale, and he merely puffs on his cigarette as your story draws to a close. He's obviously disappointed, but being the nice guy he is, he hasn't give you an 'I told you so' look yet. 

"you went to grillby's?"

The first thing he asks. What a guy.

"Yes, I did," you say, not bothering to soften your sharp tone. 

"don't take that tone," he says flatly. "i'm not gonna pity you for this sob story. c'mon, i thought you were a tough one."

"I am!" You turn away from him, more upset than ever. "It's just hard sometimes."

"you turned away from your students when you coulda just pushed through it. who gives a fuck about what they say?"

" _I_ do," you say helplessly. " _I_ care about what they say, because they were talking shit about _you_. I can't let that _slide_ , Sans."

Sans smiles, but his tone doesn't change. "you don't hafta care! you're just puttin' your job at risk now, (y/n)."

"I--"

"c'mon. fuck what they're talking about, we both know better, right? some people just won't listen to someone whose opinion might be diff'rent from theirs. and for those people, their opinion doesn't count. i mean, i hate 'em for talking trash about monsters, but what can we do?"

Sans recoils as you sit up, your face contorted with rage. "You're asking me to just let those hags blab about you whenever they want?"

"it's just not safe yet," Sans sighs. "an' i don't want you in a position where you could be harmed physically or financially."

" _Safe_?" You glare at him.

"you're in a spot where some people are already doubting you and not exactly likin' you, so don'tcha think it'd be kind of dumb if you just waltzed in and demanded better monster rights?" Sans stubs his cigarette. "wha'm trying to say is that it's best to just take it for now and wait for an opportunity to prove them wrong."

"I can't do that," you mutter, staring at the ceiling moodily.

"sure ya can," Sans replies. "who says you can't?"

Sighing, you stub your cigarette.

"ah, tell you what. this weekend, i'm introducing you to a friend of mine. you'll cheer up after meeting a new friend," Sans offers hopefully.

"New friend?" You look at him, confused but a little intrigued.

"yeah, she's a real nerd like you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i might be able to begin updating much more regularly since i've had a few problems accessing my computer recently but i might be having a breakthrough!! awesome shit i know
> 
> also sans' dialogue was heavily inspired by LOTTO by Vernon of Seventeen feat. Don Mills. it's mostly rap, but there's a specific part that referenced it ^^
> 
> "Now I’m on my way to whatever’s waitin’  
> Whatever happens go straight (go straight)  
> Fuck what they’d be talkin’ ‘bout (fuck they talkin’ ‘bout)  
> Their opinion doesn’t count like ooh"
> 
> n everyone knows who's the nerd of Undertale. expect her in the next chap lol


End file.
